


Alcohol May Be a Man's Worst Enemy (But the Bible Says Love Your Enemy)

by refuse_to_sink



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Come Eating, Daddy Derek, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Kid Fic, M/M, Masturbation, Rehabilitation, Relapsing, Skype Sex, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 79,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/refuse_to_sink/pseuds/refuse_to_sink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is a modern day Mister Rogers with his very own children’s show. He also happens to be an alcoholic who refuses to accept the truth, that he needs help. </p><p>Surprisingly enough Derek Hale is the one with his shit sorted out, caring for himself and his daughter Maisie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear Lord, I started this fic a while ago therefore Cora is not in it. Laura is still alive, because I clearly cannot kill her, ever.
> 
> Rated explicit for alcoholism and eventual sexual aspects.

“Daddy we have to go, we just have to,” Maisie pleads her hands clasped in front of her, her bottom lip in a pout.

“You’re awfully demanding for a ten year old.”

“Please, please, pleaseee.”

“How’d you even hear about it?”

“I saw it on the TV and on the internet,” she sighs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. To be honest, any parent with a child under 12 _was_ likely to hear about it. It was the hottest buzz going around in the children entertainment industry.

Maisie was of course talking about the last ever taping of ‘Stellar Stiles,’ because he was retiring (that’s what the media was reporting anyway) and the hottest commodity on TV, at least for children and admittedly some bored housewives who found Stiles rather easy on the eyes. It was taking place in LA in exactly one week which just happened to coincide with right before Maisie was due to start school.

“I can Google directions if you’d like,” and now Maisie was _really_ laying it on thick, showcasing the sweetest smile she could muster, her eyes look even bigger behind her thick glasses frames. It was the very definition of cute.

“I could always use a little retail therapy in LA,” Laura interrupts from where she’s sitting at the large oak kitchen table. She’s flipping through the mail, tossing the bills to one side and solely focusing on the sale flyers.

“Fine, but this is the last time you ask me for something this year and I mean it,” Derek huffs trying, and failing miserably to sound stern. It’s not like Maisie has even heard the end of the sentence once she head ‘fine,’ she was squealing, turning on her heels and running out of the kitchen.

Besides, everyone in the room, hell everyone in the _world_ knew that soon enough Maisie would be asking for something else, a new book, a new DVD, anything, in a matter of weeks and Derek would give in. Like he always did. Not that Laura was of any use, because she was just as much of an enabler as Derek was. They were quiet the team, those two – a ten year old had them wrapped around her tiny fingers.

Maisie runs back in the room at full charge - and Derek is positive she was either going to slip, or not be able to stop and crash into the wall – with Derek’s laptop and set it on the table in front of Laura. She runs around the large table, around the kitchen island to where Derek was hovering over the stove and yanks his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out his credit card and handing it over to Laura, so she can order the tickets.

Derek sighs, stirring the alphabet soup that Maisie loves so much - because she always plays a game and tries to find the biggest word she can make out of her soup letters (she always beats Derek and Laura) – and wonders how on earth his daughter acted like she was a teenager when she was only ten. She was going to be a real hell-raiser in the future. His only consolation was he was almost positive that she could take her of herself against any boy that tried to mess with her.

**

Stiles Stilinski attended UCLA and majored in Communications, graduating with a Bachelor of Arts degree. His initial plan had been to get his degree in communications allowing him to decide which way he wanted to after he graduated, whether it be in education, journalism or in some area in the media industry. Instead, he ended up just taking classes, barely remembering what he learned but still got good grades nonetheless, and before he knew it he was graduating and he still hadn’t a clue what he wanted to do.

Stiles decided that before he applied for a Graduate Program and ended up spending all that money he _didn’t_ have on something he was going to hate, he’d take some time off, work and get a feel for what he wanted to do. This rationally explains how Stiles found himself on the set of a famous soap opera show, working as an intern for the television network. But to Stiles, it’s still a fucking mystery, because he had menial tasks like making sure props were in the same position they were in, in the last episode, that the actors had the same look so it was consistent.

It was hell because not only was it as depressing as a saggy ball sack, it was a fucking _internship_ which meant no money. How was Stiles supposed to save for his Graduate degree if his job didn’t earn him any income. The only positive was the crafts service was amazing, and there was no way he’d let all that food go to waste. The popcorn machine got used daily, by only Stiles, and he’d finish the sandwich sometimes brining some back to his crappy apartment so he didn’t have to pay for dinner or groceries. Stiles the pragmatic.  

There was a lot of downtime when a scene was being shot, he couldn’t leave the set but he couldn’t do much of anything else, he had to be quiet so as not to disrupt the actors. He used to sit with his iPod in, music playing, as he doodled in a sketchbook. He wasn’t an artist by any means, but he also didn’t draw his people as sticks – he was decent. He used to make comics when he was younger, and he still sometimes did. It helped him stay quiet on set without fidgeting.

One day on set, Stiles was chewing on the string of his hoodie, air drumming like a madman off to the side of the set as he looked over his newly finished comic. He’d just finished colouring it and everything. Jasmine, a producer for the television network just happened to walk by and while she normally would have ignored the spastic kid jamming out to his iPod, her eye caught the sketches.

She asked to see them, nearly startling Stiles so much that the chair almost tipped backwards. Once he had gotten himself under control he shrugged and handed his book over to Jasmine, confused as to why someone was interested in his work – it was just for fun. Jasmine asked if he’d ever considered turning his work into a comic series or maybe even a TV show?

No, Stiles said, the thought had never crossed his mind.

Jasmine told him he needed to quit his internship straight away and get to work with Jasmine, she had some ideas. Besides, she said, he ought to be doing something he was getting paid for. Stiles was more than happy to agree, quitting his internship, because if he had to watch that cougar actress make out with the pool boy one more time, he’d explode. How the hell did people even watch soaps and not want to gauge their eyes out. He’d rather watch Jersey Shore, and _that_ is saying something.

So, Stiles and Jasmine started throwing back and forth some ideas and before Stiles even realised what the hell was going on he was standing in front of a camera filming the pilot to his very own TV show. Jasmine and her crew got to editing the pilot and sending it off to her bosses and the next thing Stiles knew he was the star of his very own show – Stellar Stiles.

Stiles was the modern day Mister Rogers. No, he didn’t come onto set singing a song, nor did he change into the patented red cardigan, or put on his shoes. No, he didn’t have a pet fish on set that he fed (Stiles didn’t have a good track record with pet fish). But the principal of the show was much the same. He interacted with his audience; spoke as if he were talking to the viewer’s one-on-one. He talked about important themes, like bullying, making friends, being shy etc. He even went on ‘field trips,’ to places like the zoo, museums, and other various places.

It wasn’t what Stiles envisioned for himself, but he had fun with it and the pay was fantastic.

**

“Stiles open the door!” Scott, Stiles’ manager/best friend/step brother yells. He’s banging his fists against the locked trailer door, rattling the entire thing.

The door swings open moments later. Stiles is fiddling with the button on his jeans, having trouble with such a simple task. Scott’s eyebrows rise scarily high, but there’s also a bit of relief to see that this time Stiles is at least dressed. He has underwear on (Scott cringes that he even _has_ to check that his friend/step brother has any on), his pants are just barely on, and he has a shirt on that’s _not_ inside out and rumpled like last time.

“Relax a little, your face is going to freeze like that if you frown anymore,” Stiles snickers. Which doesn’t help at all, because telling someone to relax, well it’s pretty much universally agreed that said person will do _anything_ but relax. It raises Scott’s hackles even more.

“I would relax if you weren’t such a pain in my ass,” Scott barks pushing his way past Stiles into the surprisingly neat trailer. He starts to snoop around, throwing clothes from end to the other, turning cushions over, opening cabinets, even going so far as to look in the toilet tank (don’t ask, but Scott and Stiles have been down that road quite a number of times now).

“On the bright side, you’re going to have a nice long vacation after the last show today. You know when you send me away to ButtFuck Ville or wherever it is. I’m not entirely sure he didn’t just make the place up. Check the freezer,” Stiles plops down on the couch, despite the cushions lying lopsided on the ground. The springs dig into his ass but he’s not going to fix the cushions, on principal.

Scott glares at Stiles for a few seconds before he stomps towards the small freezer, bends over and opens it. That’s when he sees it, the sleek slender blue SKYY bottle of Vodka.

“Goddammit Stiles,” Scott mutters, all the fight drained out of him already. He unscrews the lid of the bottle and dumps the contents down the sink – just like Stiles knew he would.

“I only had one shot,” Stiles lies. He had three, and a can of Coors. It helps with his pre-jitter nerves okay? Well that’s his excuse and he’s sticking to it.

Scott’s leaning against the counter by the sink as he crosses his arms, because they have much the same conversation every day. If it weren’t so fucking depressing it would almost be comical.

“You’re lucky your mom isn’t around Stiles, she’d be ashamed. You better stick to rehab this time,” Scott storms past where Stiles is sitting, towards the trailer door, not allowing Stiles to get a word in edgewise. “Be on set in ten minutes. I mean it.” The trailer door slams shut leaving Stiles sitting with a spring shaped indent in his ass.

“Fucker,” Stiles yells at the door sticking up his middle finger. He stands up, standing on the couch his shoes pushing down on the springs even more as he shifts one of the ceiling panels and fetches the last can of beer. He pops back the tab and takes a nice long sip. The beer isn’t cool or crisp; it wasn’t like he could keep the beer in the fridge lest Scott find it and pour it down the sink. Whatever, beer was beer at the end of the day, wasn’t it? He polishes off the last drop of beer, crushes the can and chucks it in the sink. Scott can find it later if he wanted to; he could shove it up his ass as far as Stiles was concerned.

**

Lydia Martin took to Hollywood like a bee to honey. Everywhere she went she commanded, garnered and held attention. From getting into the hottest clubs, to sales people beside themselves trying to get her to buy the latest fashion trends, to the business meetings she attends. It’s no wonder she established her own PR business and is one of the best in Hollywood. She’s signed multiple A-list celebrities, sports people and of course, Stiles Stilinski.

Stiles Stilinski was like the pro-bono case in her firm. She only took him on when he became an overnight sensation, being the number one rated children’s show. Beating out the likes of that cartoon that explores the world without her parents, or that guy who fixes everything – those kind of shows are old news.

They had all attended high school together, Scott, Stiles and Lydia though at the time she hardly paid them any attention. It was only after the new girl, Allison started school and became best friends with Lydia and started dating Scott, that they formed a strange little friendship. Once Lydia Martin was seen hanging out with Scott and Stiles, they were no longer the invisible people around high school, they were _known._

It hadn’t been hard for Scott and Stiles to fade into the background in high school. They lived in LA after all, where everyone was rich and good looking. Whereas Stiles and Scott were the outcasts, Stiles only going there because his dad was the Sheriff and Scott because his dad had gotten him into an elementary school and by extension the high school when he had his 80’s band.

Even though Scott and Allison no longer dated, not when one particular night at a frat party after one too many shots of alcohol and those infamous red plastic cups filled with beer did Scott hook up with one of the football jocks. That’s when Allison realised she had more fun watching her boyfriend hook up with another guy than actually join in on the fun. They broke up but all remained friends. Allison sometimes giving in to the urge to have sex with Scott when they were both single, horny and bored – isn’t that what ex potentially gay/bisexual boyfriends were for?

Anyway, Lydia had her hands full when pictures started surfacing of Stiles leaving clubs falling over himself, running into other people and trying to get behind the wheel of his car, when he was blatantly intoxicated. It was splashed on the covers of papers, on entertainment news shows, and all over the internet and gossip sites.

Lydia the clever PR genius that she was quickly covered for Stiles, saying that he’d had food poisoning, a headache, someone tripped him and _that’s_ why he fell flat on his face – and not because he was drunk. The best one was the reason he was always tripping coming out of clubs was due to the fact that the paparazzi was always in his face, pointing their cameras with their bright flashes that it would _of course_ cause someone to become disoriented and fall, or try and shield their reddened-eyes.

The press ate out of Lydia’s hand, relaying her half ass truths in the media as if any of those were actually plausible. But Lydia was no magical genie - and eventually after the umpteenth time that Stiles had been pictured drunk and had crashed his car into the highway guardrail, been _way_ over the legal limit – she wasn’t able to hide his alcohol dependence from the media. Once the story broke, it was out there and there was no going back.

Scott and Lydia had tried to get Stiles in rehab before, just short stints to try and help Stiles, but it never worked. Stiles would pretend to go in like he wanted to better, but he’d just use the few days to cleanse his system of any alcohol so that the next time he went out drinking, he’d feel like he was getting drunk for the first time – it was euphoric.

After much pleading between Lydia the PR guru, Scott the amazing manager and the TV network that hosted Stiles’ show broke down and the network declared they were cancelling Stiles’ show after the crash and court date, did they realise Stiles had hit rock bottom. When they tried to tell Stiles that, he laughed in their face saying “what the fuck do I care? I have all the money I could need, fuck those kids.”

It’s true; he does have a lot of money, from the show, appearances, endorsements and Stiles figurine dolls – but he’s not even hit 30 yet, and going out partying every night does tend to drain the bank account. Eventually he’d wear his bank account thin or worse yet wear himself thin and then what? What would his father think?

His relationship with his father got progressively worse as the years went on, Stiles’ father pleading with him to get help and the more the asked; the more Stiles pushed him away. You can’t disappoint your father if you don’t see him, don’t have a relationship with him – or so Stiles thought. Out of sight, out of mind is more of a saying than an actual practice – it never works.

**

The drive from Beacon Hills to LA wouldn’t normally be a hardship for Derek – but with a daughter and a sister? Well that’s a _whole_ other ball game. The radio is blaring a mix of One Direction and Justin Bieber songs all the while Laura and Maisie singing along at the top of their high-pitched lungs could muster. Derek is pretty sure even dogs can hear them at that decibel. Every time he goes to change the station though, there are shrieks and his hand gets slapped away by Laura. He was defeated two to one.

Derek normally wouldn’t take as many pit stops as he has, but he needs the break, needs a minute to breathe without Justin Bieber singing about ‘as long as you love me,’ or however the song goes. He takes longer in the bathroom than necessary, buys a pack of cigarettes even though he hasn’t smoked in years and sneaks behind the gas station to smoke in peace as Laura and Maisie stock up on more junk food before barrelling back into the car.

The nearer they get to LA the more they get excited; their excited energy reverberates throughout the whole car. Derek is almost positive that Laura has a crush on Stiles – he often came home from work to see Laura and Maisie sitting in front of the TV. Laura was just as entranced as Maisie was.

For all that Derek mumbles under his breath about their choice in music, or their squeals of excitement he doesn’t actually have the heart to be mad. He loves his daughter unconditionally and would do anything for her. Even go on this long ass journey.

Maisie looks like a replica of her aunt, Laura. She has long brown hair, green beautiful eyes that are hidden behind her glasses, her hair falling in her face. Her smile though, her smile is a carbon copy of her mother, and as much as it should hurt Derek, it doesn’t. Not nearly as much as he would have expected. She was a shy, quiet girl who prefers to stay at home and read books, books that are way more advanced than a ten year old should be reading. She goes on about the newest thing she’s read to Derek and Derek hardly knows what she’s talking about – but her face lights up and he can’t help but listen and ask questions when he can.  

Maisie doesn’t have many friends and Derek knew it was because she got picked on at school. Picked on because she wore glasses, she was smarter than the other kids and didn’t want to run around playing tag but instead wanted to sit under a tree and read. When Derek had asked if Maisie wanted to go to camp for the summer (he even offered just a day camp because he knew there was no way Maisie would go to an overnight one) she pitched a hissy fit, ran to her room and slammed it shut. Derek found her hours later under her fort made of bed sheets reading about navy ships in the war.

Derek apologised and said Maisie didn’t have to go to camp if she didn’t want to – she could stay home for the summer. Maisie smiled, climbed into her father’s lap and started pointing out different areas of navy ships and what they did. Derek didn’t know how on earth to get his daughter to be more social, but he was selfish too and would take all the time he could get with her and the fact that she actually wanted to spend time with her father. What if that all changed when she became a teenager?

There’s a sigh of relief from Derek and collective yips of excitement from Laura and Maisie when they pull up front of the hotel in LA ready to check in, because tomorrow morning they’re going to see the last ever taping of Stellar Stiles. Laura and Derek also just happened to leave out that they paid extra to meet Stiles after – Maisie might just faint from excitement.

**

Just after Stiles dumps the crushed can of beer in the sink, he just barely makes it down the trailer steps before he hops into the golf cart – a poor college kid interning at the studio is driving. Really, they should be smarter than to leave a poor kid with the task of making sure Stiles gets to set in one piece. He keeps eyeing Stiles trying to see if he’s going to puke or pass out.

Scott’s already on set and hands Stiles a shot of espresso and an Advil. It’s probably _not_ the smartest combination at the minute, not with the alcohol already in Stiles’ system but it’s the only way Stiles is going to be able to face the live audience and get on with the taping. Scott _knows_ it’s enabling, he’s heard it a million times by Lydia – especially those nights Scott used to go out to the bar with Stiles if only to make sure he doesn’t drink so much that he passes out, makes sure he gets home in one piece and doesn’t end up choking on his own vomit in the middle of the night.

Not that Stiles remembers any of it in the morning, so there’s no ‘Thanks Scott, you’re a good friend,’ or anything. Stiles downs the espresso and pill in one shot and any remorse or nostalgia of this being his last ever show is soon drained out as his body starts to thrum with the caffeine and medication. He hears the cheers as one of the presenters is going over the usual spiel – then there’s clapping and Stiles is running onto the set, a huge fake grin plastered to his face.

Scott and Lydia are off to the side watching as Stiles going through his skits on the edge of their hypothetical seats just short of biting their nails – Lydia would never do such a thing. They’re not really surprised though, that Stiles manages to get through everything without much of a hiccup – he did mess up one line but quickly covers it up making a joke, the laughter from the audience echoes throughout the stage.

For all that Stiles jokes about the show, and for all the alcohol that’s been a permanent fixture in his system for these past few years, he’s somehow always managed to get through the taping of the show – only ever missing one, when he blacked out and was rushed to the hospital where they had to pump his stomach. If anything, his break downs usually occurred just before he was due on stage or right after when he was running to the bathroom or the nearest garbage can.

They watch as Stiles takes his bow, the live audience stands up whooping and cheering, Stiles waving and exiting stage left to where his two best friends are standing.

“Was that so bad?” Stiles rolls his eyes as he walks to the crafts table picking up a donut and shoving it in his mouth. One of the microphone guys hands him a water bottle, his hand lingering longer than necessary on Stiles before he scurries away.

“Apart from that blundered line, no,” Lydia snaps snatching the water bottle away from Stiles who only just got a sip before some splashes down the front of his shirt. She takes a sniff, but can’t smell anything and takes a little sip – spitting it out. She knew it wasn’t water. She hands the bottle to Scott for him to go dump it out, crosses her arms and taps her black shiny designer shoes.

“I can’t help it if the sound guy has a crush on me,” Stiles shrugs not bothering to apologise. Yeah, Mike the microphone guy definitely has a little crush on Stiles and after a few hot make out sessions behind set over the years, Mike has dedicated his time to slipping Stiles bottles of vodka concealed in whatever different drink container he can find.

“Fine, if a babysitter is what you need a babysitter is what you’ll get,” Lydia snaps turning on her heels and walking away. She’s back a few minutes later with a very large, bald man who’s dressed in all black, even a black jacket despite the heat outside and Stiles knows immediately it’s one of the security guards from the set lot. Lydia sticks Mr Bald on Stiles, “There’s a meet and greet in an hour and you need to go change your shirt and you obviously can’t be trusted on your own. Believe it or not Scott and I do have other things to attend to besides your every need,” Lydia rants.

“Oh believe me, I know you’re not here for all my needs,” Stiles sneers, “Otherwise we would have had sex years ago like I’ve always envisioned.”

Before Stiles even finishes his sentence there’s a loud smack that takes Stiles a few seconds to realise is Lydia’s hand smacking right across the flat of Stiles’ cheek – an instant sting and hand impression with all of Lydia’s rings on his face, a loud yelp coming from Stiles. He glares at Mr Bald who does absolutely nothing but look in the other direction like he didn’t see what just unfolded – so much for a body guard. Lydia is storming off in the other direction, the door to the sound stage swinging shut with a bang behind her.

Even insulting one of his most loyal, trusted friends, someone not after his fame or money isn’t enough to get Stiles to sober up, enough to realise that going to rehab is the best solution. He’ll most likely forget about what he said in a few hours – but Lydia won’t.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear in mind that this isn't a version of Stiles you may love.

“Wasn’t that amazing?” Maisie squeals. They’re standing in the long line to the bathroom because both Laura and Maisie declared they had to pee. Derek points out they shouldn’t have ordered the largest drink and that they should currently be in the line-up to meet Stiles, it’s going to be miles long. Derek isn’t renowned for his patience.

“He was very funny,” Laura nods her head in agreement. She’s fixing one of Maisie’s pigtails as they shuffle forward in the line. “I even heard daddy chuckle once, he covered it up quickly before he lost all his preconceived notions of masculinity.”

Derek shoots his sister the best death glare that he can muster. Considering he’s surrounded by a bunch of children, he can’t exactly swear. Though he knows Laura can vividly imagine all the cruel words he’d say if he wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of Rugrats. He stands off to the side as Laura takes Maisie into the bathroom, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. He looks more like he belongs with the security team in his leather jacket, boots and a pair of jeans rather than a parent. He _does_ have to admit that some of Stiles’ jokes were passably funny. He had never really paid attention to the show when it was on TV. It always came on at 4 PM and he was still at work or just getting in, hitting up the shower or starting dinner.

“He didn’t seem too drunk,” a woman whispers just a few feet from Derek.

“He can probably cover it up well. The Hollywood type these days,” a different woman whispers back.

Derek can already tell they’re bored housewives, their hair in pristine condition with well-manicured nails; that brought their children to see ‘Stellar Stiles.’ He’s surprised he doesn’t see a PTA button pinned to their designer cashmere sweaters. He really can’t even be assed to listento the gossip as if he were a teenager. _Except_ , Stiles’ name came up and Derek’s ears perk up a little and he berates himself a little for it. Huh, apparently Stiles was a drunk – it’s all over the internet and everything.

Great, Derek thinks, just what his daughter needs at the minute. Her childhood hero a fucking drunk – she’d be shattered.

At the thought of Maisie, she comes skipping out of the bathroom hand-in-hand with Laura as they make their way over to join the long line of people waiting to meet Stiles. Derek’s luck (because he _told_ Maisie and Laura to go to the bathroom before the show) is that the line is long, snaking around velvet movie theatre style ropes to keep everyone confined, and they’re right at the end.

Almost two hours later - Derek’s already tired of hearing shrieks and seeing flashes of camera – there’s only one family in front of them waiting to meet Stiles. When it’s Maisie’s turn, she runs up and slaps her pictures of Stiles down on the table, ready for Stiles to sign it.

“Maisie Hale, your biggest fan,” she beams.

“Sure,” Stiles snorts but starts to sign the picture nonetheless.

“This is my dad, Derek,” Maisie continues, turning around and dragging her father forward and outstretching his hand so that Stiles could take it.

“’Sup?” Stiles slurs. Derek narrows his eyes at Stiles. Stiles’ eyes are just barely tinged red and now all Derek can think about is if Stiles really is drunk, or if he’s just tired. Should he give Stiles the benefit of the doubt since his daughter loves him so much? “That the ol’ ball and chain?” Stiles continues nodding at Laura who is standing a little ways back. “Don’t want her getting too jealous; I am an equal opportunist.”

“I’m his sister,” Laura clarifies moving forward to shake Stiles’ hand, a disgusted look on her face.

“Daddy doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Maisie interrupts, ignoring or not understanding (no matter how smart she is some things just come with age) what’s unfolding.

“Maisie!” Derek scolds, but Maisie ignores him and keeps going on, jumping to a completely new topic and asking Stiles questions.

Stiles sighs but answers the questions, half-assed but even _that_ doesn’t seem to discourage Maisie. Scott clears his throat and asks if they want to take a picture, and they better do it soon because Stiles has to go. Stiles takes a long sip from a paper coffee cup with the lid half on, half off, and all that runs through Derek’s mind is, is it actually coffee or is there alcohol in it? He curses those bottle blonde housewives for gossiping within earshot.

Maisie runs around the table to stand beside Stiles, who for his part at least tries to smile and then Maisie s dragging Laura and Derek around to take another picture as Scott snaps a couple of shots. Derek tries to be as inconspicuous as he can and sniffs Stiles but he can’t smell any traces of alcohol.

“Now, you stay in school,” Stiles says looking down at Maisie as he gets up readying himself to leave. He polishes off whatever is in his paper cup and tosses it back down on the table.

“Why wouldn’t I stay in school?” Maisie asks tilting her head to the side, utterly confused. Derek has to resist the urge to snort. Laura isn’t so gracious; she snorts then covers her mouth with her hand.

“Uhh,” Stiles starts – because it’s the same thing he says to every little kid he meets, knowing most of them hate school and complain about having to go. But when they hear it from their favourite TV personality, ‘Stellar Stiles,’ they immediately nod their heads up and down furiously like they’re one of those bobble dogs on the dashboard of a car. They wouldn’t dare let down Stiles.

“I mean, I asked daddy if I could be home-schooled, but even then I’d still be in school. He said no.”

“No? He sounds mean to me,” Stiles blurts.

Maisie nods her head, humming in agreement, “Sometimes, yes.”

“And on that note,” Laura interrupts as she sees Derek’s eyes harden and just about to lose his shit and end up in an LA jail cell. He may be buff but she’s positive he’ll still attract some unwanted attention from his cellmates. “We should get going. It was nice to meet you Stiles.”

“And you, _not_ ol’ ball and chain.”

“Laura,” she reminds him.

“Right, Laura.”

Maisie waves her goodbye, the biggest smile Derek’s seen on her face since he brought home a build your own ship model a few months ago. He’s glad that even if Stiles _is_ a drunk, Maisie didn’t catch on and she can continue on with her life normally. Her childhood hero is still the Golden, Wonder Man in her eyes.

“Right, let’s get back to the hotel we have an early morning tomorrow!”

“You two can go, I have some shopping to do,” Laura says flipping her hair like she’s going on a mission, to spend all the money she can manage. Derek doesn’t know how they’re going to fit it all in the Camaro; they already have their entire luggage to take back. Laura will just end up scolding him, saying they should have brought the Toyota since it is the ‘family car.’ Derek argued that if was going to have to drive all the way to LA to see some children’s show he was at least going to drive his own car. Functionality be damned.

**

Scott doesn’t talk to Stiles on the drive back to Stiles’ trailer; the only noise is the little hum of the golf cart. Majority of the other crew members have cleared out as their work is already finished. The stage will be broken down tomorrow; ready to be used for whatever new show they’re going to create.

“Where’d Lydia go?” Stiles asks propping his feet up on the front of the golf cart.

“You really are something,” Scott snorts – but it’s not a ‘ha ha’ snort but an ‘I’m about 10 seconds away from punching you’ snort.

“Oh c’mon, it was a joke. She needs to loosen up a little. Maybe I should buy her vibrating underwear or something.”

Scott slams on the golf cart brakes just outside of Stiles’ trailer, sending Stiles flying forward half way out of the golf cart. At least if Stiles gets injured now, it won’t affect his work or insurance, Scott can afford to be a little rougher. Scott jumps out, huffing balling his hands into fists.

“I know you like to joke about everything Stiles, but considering you only have three good friends, one of which isn’t talking to you at the minute and now me, if you keep going on about Lydia. I suggest you smarten up.”

“You’re family, not friends. You’re stuck with me.”

“You’re un-fucking believable,” Scott throws his hands up in the air. “Samuel can drive you home.” He fishes his car keys out of his pocket and walks away just as distraught and hurt as Lydia was only a few hours ago.

Two for two, Stiles Stilinski.

Stiles doesn’t dwell on it too much though, going back into his trailer and shoving the rest of his belongings in a bag, along with the rest of the alcohol he has stashed about. Mr Bald (aka Samuel) ushers him into a car, ready to drive him back to his lavish condo, where he’s going to spend his last night. Tomorrow morning he’ll he heading to the Beacon Hills Lodge Rehab Facility.

Stiles’ penthouse condo has seen its fair share of partying over the years. It’s fancy with furniture that costs a ridiculous amount of money that Stiles bought just because he could. An expensive glass table that has been used on more than one occasion for lines of cocaine, with a large walk-in cellar to store bottles upon bottles of wine and spirits. He even has a rooftop patio with a Jacuzzi that’s seen a lot more than just scantily clad people looking for a relaxing soak.

Tonight though, he walks into his condo and it’s completely empty. No Lydia, Scott or Allison, no people coming to party with Stellar Stiles and get drunk. Instead it’s pitch black and utterly depressing, the space too large for it to just be occupied by one person. It’s not like Stiles even has any pets to come home to. There’s no one to talk to unless he wants to talk to his plants which just happen to be drooping like they’re about to die. Speaking of which, he clearly needs to fire his gardener.

Stiles strips out of the clothes he’s been stuck in all day, manages a shower and changes back into a clean pair of boxers. He rummages around in the fridge until he finds left over Chinese that’s hopefully only a few days old and starts to eat it cold. Heating it up would only take too long and knowing Stiles’ luck he’ll burn his tongue, hand or both.

He polishes off the Chinese with a half bottle of vodka he has laying around in the kitchen before he makes his way to the wine cellar. There’s not much left in there, not since he’s partied and drank it all away, but there are a few bottles of white wine left in there that will have to suffice just fine.

“Fuck everyone, you hear me? Fuck everyone,” Stiles slurs to no one in particular – considering he’s on his own – and pops the cork, drinking straight from the bottle. “I created my own damn fucking show and no one wants to focus on that do they? No, they want to focus on the fact that I like to party a little. It’s hard work, working on that show every goddamn day.”

Stiles doesn’t remember passing out in the wine cellar, his hand in a bag of half eaten Cheetos, in a puddle of his own piss. He doesn’t remember Allison letting herself in with a spare key and dragging his limp body to the bed, gingerly changing his boxers so that he wouldn’t smell too rank in the morning. He doesn’t remember the way she propped herself up in one of the chairs all night to make sure he wouldn’t get sick. He doesn’t remember any of it because he was in a black oblivion – completely unaware of what was going on around him. Because alcoholism doesn’t just affect the alcoholic, it affects everyone around them too.

**

“I don’t want to go to school,” Maisie pouts over her bowl of Lucky Charms. She’s picked out all the cereal pieces eating those first so that she’s left with a bowl of marshmallows to eat. Derek hates that she eats that sugary crap but when it’s Laura’s turn to do the groceries she always buy it for Maisie. When Derek does the grocery shopping he buys Raisin Bran. Maisie hates Raisin Bran.

“You like school,” Derek sighs draining the last of his coffee, rinsing and putting the mug in the dishwasher.

“But I don’t like the people”

“Mase, even ‘Stellar Stiles,’” Derek even uses the air quotes and all, “Said you should stay in school.”

“He also said you’re mean.”

“You have a point there,” Derek concedes, “Fine well then how about I’m your father and I say you have to go to school.”

Maisie scowls eating her bowl of marshmallows and milk, ignoring her father. Derek takes that as a sign that he’s won this time, though it hardly feels like winning when he knows his daughter hates school – even if only for the reason that some kids can just be plain cruel. If it were acceptable to slap all those kids upside the head, he’d have done it years ago. If things got worse than maybe he’d intervene but until then Maisie would have to tough it out at school and hope things would get better.

Derek drops Maisie off at school watching as she hops out of the car and trudges her way towards the front doors as if walking any slower would cause the school to start moving backwards, so that it was a never ending trek to get inside. Once she reaches the front door, she spins around, pushes her glasses farther up her nose, gives her father a wave, blows a kiss, and goes inside.

Derek doesn’t have time for his heart to swoon at the adorableness that is his daughter as he has a business to run. He pushes back any lingering doubts about his daughter and her first day at school, hoping it would all go well. Maybe for dinner he’ll treat her to her favourite pizza/play place restaurant that has a pirate ship and arcade games. Yeah, Derek is a total pushover.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to update every week.
> 
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to update next week but I thought what hell, update early. :)

Stiles sits in the back of a black, tinted Cadillac as it rolls down the Main Street of Beacon Hills. The Cadillac is trying to go for inconspicuous. A fancy black car rolling down any street in Beacon Hills was bound to cause _some_ attention. They were a long way from LA where you were within spitting distance of a car that is worth more than people made in a year. Stiles is surprised he doesn’t see the people out on the streets skipping down the road, bursting out into a song – it just seemed like _that_ kind of town.

Scott is beside him though they haven’t spoken a word, not since Scott found Allison with a neck ache from sleeping on a chair in Stiles’ room. They certainly haven’t spoken since they boarded the plane, not when they landed and started the drive to the rehab centre.

Not that Stiles cared, he didn’t. He hates Scott and anyone else that is on the rehabilitation kick they’re on. Rehab was for people who had problems and Stiles didn’t have any problems. His only problem was with the people around him forcing him into entering this stupid facility in the first place.

The black Cadillac takes some twists and turns off of the main road and down windy dirt roads that look to be leading them into the heart of a forest. Stiles wouldn’t put it past Scott to find a mountain and push him off of it, whether there was hard ground or water at the bottom of said mountain. He starts to get on edge, his hands digging into the leather at the edge of his seat. He just wants to get wherever it was they are going, and get there now.

Stiles hasn’t had one drink since the previous night when he passed out in the wine cellar. He tried to get one of those mini bottles on the plane before Scott threw a fit and threatened the flight attendant if she served Stiles. Stiles then tried to counter saying he’d sue her if she _didn’t_ serve him any alcohol. The flight attendant, the poor woman, decided to err on the side of caution and didn’t serve any alcohol.

Stiles’ silent plea must work because soon enough, a large wooden building with other little wooden buildings that look like cabins are scattered about, comes into view. He can only assume they’ve made it to Beacon Hills Lodge Rehabilitation Centre. Now, come to think of it, he’d rather be thrown off the mountain.

As soon as the driver pulls up in front of the main building, a large black man dressed in a white shirt and pants, with a broad smile comes out and opens Stiles’ door letting him out.

“Mr Stilinski, glad you’ve arrived. I’m Boyd,” the man outstretches his hand to shake Stiles’. Stiles ignores him in favour of sceptically eyeing the place surrounding him. “Don’t bother trying to make a run for it, your surroundings a forest. You’ll most likely get lost.”

“Or kill myself,” Stiles mutters.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here,” Boyd cuts in sharply. He walks around to the back of the car to retrieve Stiles’ suitcase from the driver. “You must be Scott, the one I spoke to on the phone,” Boyd says as he finally pays attention to the other man. “It’s best we get Stiles settled in before he’s allowed any visitors.”

Scott nods his head, “Okay-”

“-Don’t bother, I don’t want any visitors,” Stiles interrupts.

Boyd gives Scott a smile, shakes his head and says they’ll speak soon. Scott nods his head, eyes darting towards Stiles and Boyd. It looks like he wants to say something to Stiles, something comforting, about their friendship, _anything_ but the way Stiles is eyeing anywhere but Scott tells him he isn’t going to listen, no matter what. He gets back in the Cadillac; the driver takes off, going back down the windy roads, the car retreating more and more by the second.

Boyd starts walking towards the main entrance with Stiles’ suitcase and Stiles doesn’t know why, but he starts following the other man. He doubts he could make a run for it anyway; some bear will end up mauling him. He can only imagine the headlines; embarrassment even in death doesn’t seem appealing. Unless you die mid-fuck, embarrassing yes, but totally worth it.

Stiles is surprised to see that the inside of the lodge doesn’t look as clinical and depressing as he thought it would be. There’s comfy worn in furniture scattered about, bright lights without looking artificial or fluorescent, pictures adorned along the walls but none of that abstract bullshit that ends up tripping him out more than the alcohol or drugs. Instead it’s scenery of forests, oceans, and everything else mellow. Not that he’d admit out loud that he likes any of it, because that’s like giving in, like admitting he needs to be here – he doesn’t.

“We normally like to have our new guests’ room with another well on their way into their recovery to promote bonding,” Boyd interrupts Stiles from his wandering eye. He’s just stopped outside of a closed door; sets Stiles’ bag on the ground to open the door, presumable leading Stiles to his new living arrangements.

“You mean patients, not guests,” Stiles quips, because he’s anything _but_ a guest considering he’s been forced to come here. He steps into the room anyway, his own stupid curiosity. Not to mention he wouldn’t put it past Boyd to shove him in there and lock the door behind him like a caged, rabid animal.

The room has two twin sized beds, not side by side but the headboards against opposite walls, diagonal from each other. He’d be able to hang a curtain straight across the middle of the room to separate the two sides – though that’s probably against the whole bonding experience. One side of the room is perfectly clean and spotless, the sheets folded with perfect corners and not a wrinkle. The bed is closest to the window where the sun is shining in casting shadows throughout the room.

The bed closest to where Stiles currently stands and that whole side of the room is in chaos, clothes thrown everywhere, the sheets rumpled on the bed. There was also currently a man on said messy bed with his headphones in. The man barely glances at Stiles, not at all interested.

“Holy shit, you’re Jackson Whittemore,” Stiles says eyeing the man in more detail now. The man looks skinner and more pale than he remembers ever seeing him, but he figures that’s to be expected in this hell hole.

“The one and only,” Jackson sneers, removing one of his headphones from his ear.

“That’s statistically unlikely – why are there posters of yourself on the wall?” Stiles starts, changing his train of thought midsentence, when he spots that there are indeed posters of Jackson on his own wall.

Jackson Whittemore used to play for the San Francisco Dragons lacrosse team – until he got busted taking prohibited enhancement drugs and was immediately suspended. It was all over the news. After his suspension was up, he never returned to the team and the San Francisco Dragons big wigs made some cryptic statement about Jackson’s whereabouts, and that he no longer played for the team. Turns out he’s in the Beacon Hills rehab.

“Boyd I told you I don’t want a fucking roommate,” Jackson yells jumping up from his bed, making his way towards Boyd.

“Tough shit Whittemore. Besides at least you get to room with another celebrity.”

“You’re a celebrity?” Jackson laughs, turning on his heels and sauntering towards Stiles a smirk on his face. “Oh Stilinski is it? From the children’s show. Pretty sure my mom has a crush on you.”

“The one and only,” and Stiles _is_ actually pretty confident that he was the one and only, or at least more statistically likely then Jackson. Stiles had even done a Facebook search of his name before (who hasn’t, okay?).

“Keep your shit to your side of the room and don’t bother me,” Jackson jumps back onto his bed and pushes the headphones back in.

Yeah Stiles wouldn’t object to hanging up his bed sheet on the ceiling, along the middle of the room so he wouldn’t have to see or deal with Jackson. Boyd drops Stiles’ bags at the foot of his new bed, gives him a quick smile and strolls out the room leaving Stiles with his brand new roommate, fallen lacrosse player Jackson Whittemore.

Lacrosse isn’t that big of a sport, but it was becoming more popular and well known these days. Stiles remembers seeing Jackson play one year, at the Home Depot Centre in Carson California. Jackson had been a beast on the field and ended up scoring the winning goal of the night – everyone had erupted in cheers and it was a pretty spectacular night. It also helped the Lacrosse league that Jackson was a pretty boy, the media loved him, other teams wanted him, and girls wanted him.

Stiles kicks his suitcase at the foot of the bed so it topples over – he refuses to unpack his belongings, putting his clothes into his side of the wardrobe and dressers. That would again, admit he belonged here. He sighs sits down on the bed bouncing a little as he looks out the window. All he saw was trees, trees, some dirt and more trees. Definitely no escape route in sight.

“What are you in for Stilinski?” Jackson asks a few minutes lately. Apparently he deigns to speak to little old Stiles now.

“I’m in for nothing.”

“One of those guys huh?” Jackson snorts.

“Some would say I have a problem with alcohol – but I don’t, they’re lying.”

“Is that so?” someone asks from the doorway, startling Stiles until he turns around to see the new entrant, who also happens to be a little fucking nosy. The new person is a man, with dark skin, a goatee and dark brown eyes – eyes that had a sort of spark to them and Stiles knew immediately, his stomach dropping. This new person wasn’t just anyone, but a therapist. “And what reason would all these people have to lie?”

“They’re jealous,” Stiles shrugs ignoring the way his stomach drops, the way he wants to curl into a ball and turn his back to the man.

“Jealousy is a complex thing,” the man nods. “I’m Deaton,” he walks farther into the room to shake Stiles’ hand.

“A shrink,” Stiles nods his head in return, it’s not a question but he still wants confirmation. Deaton nods his head smiling. “I hate to break it to you man, but we’re not going to have any heart-to-hearts. I’m getting out of here, now.”

“Kind of hard to do when you’ve been court ordered,” Deaton chuckles. He can afford to chuckle, he’s dealt with people like Stiles many times. In denial, sarcastic, childish patients who think they’re better than everyone else and can fix their problems on their own. “Unless you’d like to spend your time in jail – I can’t promise you’ll be given the peace and quiet you so desire.”

“Someone’s been reading up on my files, apparently.”

“Part of my job, but we’ll have plenty of time to talk about you and your desire to crash cars into railings at another time. I thought I’d just introduce myself, in case you felt like talking.”

“I don’t.”

Screw that damn police report.

Stiles hardly gets any rest after that, more and more workers come into the room to greet and welcome Stiles. He has to remind them that this isn’t some sort of welcome home party, he doesn’t need to be greeted – he doesn’t _want_ to be greeted. Can’t a damn guy get some peace and quiet in rehab?

Another man, with a mop of dirty blonde curly hair walks in, in a similar white outfit that Boyd had on and introduces himself as Isaac, one of the nurses. He has a genuine smile and earnest eyes – but Stiles doesn’t trust him.

“Don’t bother trying to bribe him, he already turned me on,” Jackson calls from where he’s flipping through a book. Isaac rolls his eyes at Jackson and leaves.

The last person to enter and introduce himself is a tall man with short brown hair, matching brown eyes and the deepest dimples Stiles has ever seen. His name is Danny Mahealani and he’s one of the doctors on site, he’s going to track Stiles’ recovery. He has a clipboard with charts and everything. He really looks at Danny; he has the same genuine look as Isaac, so naturally Stiles doesn’t trust him.

“Don’t bother trying to fuck him, he turned me down,” Jackson shrugs.

“One of these days Mr Whittemore, those looks will fade and how ever will you attract a pretty lady or man then?”

“Isn’t putting down the patients against the law or something?” Jackson sneers.

“As is sexually harassing a doctor.”

That shuts Jackson up immediately and Stiles doesn’t even realise when he lets a laugh slip past his lips before he tries to cover it up. Maybe his source of entertainment will be watching the workers rip on Jackson. It might just be better than TV.

“We’ll give you a sleeping pill for tonight if you’d like, Mr Stilinski, so that you can have a good night’s sleep before we start on the detoxification process tomorrow.”

“Can I get one of those pills too?” But Dr Mahealani is already leaving the room ignoring Jackson.

Dinner isn’t all that great, chicken and rice but on the bright side the chicken doesn’t taste like rubbery airplane food. He inhales it down quickly before he gobbles down the two chocolate chip cookies he was also given. He doesn’t try and talk to anyone, opting to sit by himself as other people ogle in his direction but he pointedly ignores him. He notices most of the staff he’s already met, along with some others he hasn’t met. There’s a woman with blonde curly hair, in the same white outfit but is a _total_ knockout. Stiles would definitely like to get to know her a little better.

It’s as if these people can read his mind, because a minute later Boyd snaps his fingers at Stiles to get his attention and distract him from staring at the blonde, whose nametag reads Erica. Stiles startles, zeroing in on his cookie, dashing to his room the minute dinner is over and he’s allowed to leave.            

That night Stiles swallows his sleeping pill, drinking from the little paper cup Isaac hands him. He falls asleep peacefully, not a dream or thought in sight and it’s exactly how he’s become accustomed to sleeping back in LA. Only he didn’t have sleeping pills but alcohol. These sleeping pills are something he could get used to. Sleeping the night away means he doesn’t have to go to therapy, socialise with others, detox.

Stiles would sleep away his remaining time at the Lodge, that’s what he’d do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment away.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

After three days of alcohol detoxification, Stiles is ready to call it quits. He spends his time between his bedroom wrapped up in his bed sheets, tossing them off when he gets too hot – his shirt drenched through with sweat - and then wrapping himself up again when he gets too cold. He spends the other half of his time in the doctor’s office, on a hospital bed feeling much the same.

He goes through bouts of nausea, trembling, cold sweats, and constantly calling out for alcohol. At this point he’ll take it in any form he can get it, a beer, vodka through a drip, hell even mouth wash – _anything_ to get that feeling of alcohol flowing through his blood stream again. To feel like he’s alive and steady, not the trembling mess that he’s become – anything to stop the sweats. Isaac and Erica, the nurses he ends up seeing the most, studiously ignore his pleas for alcohol and when he gets too rowdy, Boyd comes in and uses his strong, lean muscles to keep Stiles down, sedating him when needed so he stops trying to get up and leave.

He’s not in a mental institute, so it’s not like Boyd can strap him down, nor is he under arrest so they can’t handcuff him to the bed lest they want to go through ethics training all over again. It doesn’t stop Boyd from threatening him to do either of those though. Boyd is used to intimidating the patients, while Isaac is soft spoken, and Erica fierce, Boyd is the one with the muscles, the one most likely to follow through on his threats.

Dr Mahealani tries his hardest to reassure Stiles that after about a week of detox the symptoms will subside, he’ll feel better, the trembles and sweating ceasing to exist anymore – and then he can continue on with the rest of his rehabilitation. Stiles tells him to fuck off, calling him a few other choice words before he doses off in a drowsy, sedated sleep for the night.

Delirium Tremens or ‘the shakes’ as Dr Mahealani so unprofessionally puts it, is something that doesn’t happen to all patients but it is possible. Its main symptoms are severe disorientation, hallucinations and nightmares – at least that’s what Stiles thinks he said he wasn’t paying much attention when the good doctor listed off the medical words that have more letters than the English alphabet even consists of. Nor did he listen to the side-effects of the capsules he was given to ease the withdrawals.

Stiles is currently in a trance like state, he doesn’t know whether he’s dreaming or awake, alive or dead, suspended in the air or on the cold hard ground. All he knows is he’s surrounded by darkness pitch black all around him, consuming its surroundings and he can’t see anything around him – like staring into an abyss. Before he knows it, there’s a bright, white light moving forward in his direction and he thinks ‘ _this is it, I’m dying’_ before there’s heat like from a fire warming him and a woman in front of him in a hospital gown. He gasps, trying to scramble back, fade into the background and let the darkness consume him, but he can’t move no matter how hard he tries. He doesn’t want to see what’s in front of him, but it’s too late.

Standing in front of him, in that hideous green hospital gown that hospitals make their patients wear, is his mother. Other than the horrendous gown, she’s beautiful and angelic as ever – just like he remembered when he so rarely let himself think about her. She doesn’t look anything like he lasts remembers seeing her, in a hospital bed hooked up to machines, pale and white, too skinny her bones threatening to poke out from her skin at any minute.          

Instead, she looks like she used to, when she was healthy and would take Stiles to the park, or to play in the backyard. She looks like she used to, when she’d help make a fort out of sheets in the living room, hide under them with Stiles and watch movies when he would stay home sick until his father came home.

She’s standing there in all her glory, brown long flowing hair, her eyes the same shade as Stiles’ – the exact same eyes Stiles’ dad used to stay – and that patented smile of hers, showcasing her white teeth, the kind that could light up a whole room. Except, her smile disappears soon, her face changing to a face full of sorrow and sadness. Stiles chants ‘ _no, no, no_ ’ in his head, he wants to see her smile again.

“What happened to you Stiles?” she says walking towards Stiles. “What happened between you and your father? You’re supposed to take care of him, love him enough for the both of us now that I’m not there anymore.”

“I do,” Stiles insists defensively.

“You got him to stop drinking Stiles, you got him to stop long enough to realise that you need him. But what about now that he needs you? You’ve stopped his drinking only to start up yourself. That’s not the son I raised – that’s not the son I fell in love with the minute you were put in my arms, the minute I found out I was pregnant.”

“But-” Stiles wants to defend himself, tell her she wasn’t around long enough to raise him. Not through his teenage years, to get her words of wisdom when it came to his first crush, his first date. He wants to tell her she _should_ have been there, and then maybe none of this would have happened. But he can’t bring himself to say any of it; he knows it’s not her fault.

“Is that the kind of man you want to be? Drinking alone, without any friends or family in sight? Is that the kind of life you want?”

“Of course not!” Stiles yells vehemently, because how could his mother even think that’s the kind of person he wants to be?

“Then show me my darling, show me you know what’s right.”

“Wait come back!” Stiles calls out as his mother starts to back away, starting to be swallowed up into the darkness, like getting sucked into a black hole, never to be seen again. He tries to stumble forward, to chase after her, have her hold him in her arms like she used to. She’s gone.

**

Stiles wakes with a jolt and a shout, his heart pounding. He’s disorientated until he realises he’s in his room at the lodge, the sun blaring into his room and onto his bed which tells him that it’s well past sunrise. He looks over to Jackson’s bed but he’s nowhere in sight, probably at one of his therapy meetings or group activities. His heart is still thundering in his chest, his body aching both from exhaustion and lack of alcohol. He realises it was all a _dream,_ a stupid naïve dream and now he wants nothing more than to escape. He doesn’t want to be poked and prodded at anymore, someone hovering around him every minute of every damn day.

He shoves his legs in the first pair of jeans he can find, throwing on a t-shirt and pokes his head out of his bedroom door looking up and down the corridor. When he’s positive there’s no one there, he turns left walking to the end of the hallway before he turns left again. He’s in a new hallway, with only one door at the end that he knows leads to a cleaning closet. He knows the door is unlocked because there’s nothing in there that anyone would want, any of the actual cleaning products like bleach are locked away somewhere else, there’s only brooms and mops. There’s also a window.

He enters the room quickly and shuts the door with a click behind him. He leans against the door breathing heavily waiting for someone to barge in, grab him by the collar and put him back in his room or worse yet lock him up somewhere else. After a few minutes when he has his breathing under control and positive no one else is going to come and grab him he heads for the window. It’s a little higher up than he can reach, but it’s large enough that he’ll be able to fit through. Stiles grabs a bucket and flips it over so that he can stand on the base of it, hoping it’s strong enough to hold his weight.

He doesn’t waste anytime tentatively standing on the bucket and unlatching the window as quickly as he can before the bucket under him gives out. He hoists himself up and begins the awkward manoeuvre as he straddles the windowsill, one leg inside and the other outside. He manages to get both legs outside the window, dangling on the wooden ledge. It’s only a few feet down and he hopes he doesn’t injure himself in the process. It’s a bit late to think the whole plan through. He shuts his eyes and let’s go, letting gravity take over as his body falls to the ground. He lands awkwardly on his ankle but thankfully there’s no crack, no pain searing up his leg so he must have done alright after all.

Stiles’ eyes dart all around him making sure no one saw him and thankfully he’s around the side of the building so there’s no one around. He has to remind himself he’s not _actually_ in jail – despite the four walls surrounding his bedroom sure as hell felt like a jail confining him against his will – and that there are no watch towers with guards and snipers ready to take aim. He scurries along the wall until he’s near the front of the building.

He supposes he should be thankful that the rehab centre is in the middle of the forest because there are more than enough trees to provide good concealment. He can run from one tree – the girth of the tree trunks large enough to hide his body – as he dashes from one tree to the next. He moves as quickly as he can, not thinking about how he used to do this when he was little, but that was when he was pretending to be a spy, not trying to escape rehab.

Soon enough the trees become few and far between, a street coming into view. The same road that he was driven up only a few days before with Scott – and did that ever feel like a lifetime ago. Stiles feels a little more confident once he’s on the road, off of the rehabilitation property and on public property – the weight lifting off of him as he starts walking in what he hopes is the right direction. He doesn’t have any actual idea where he’s going, or how he’s getting there.

After almost half an hour of walking on the gravel road, no cars passing by and no buildings in sight, he’s almost convinced himself he’s walking _away_ from civilisation and maybe this was a bad idea after all. Except, his only option is to head back to where he’d come from and anything, being run over, mauled by a bear, even kidnapped by aliens seemed like a better idea. As it was, luck seemed to be on his side for once as he sees a bend in the road and buildings coming into view. He’d finally made it to the city centre and there were people hustling about, cars being driven, horns being honked.

The city centre is nothing like being back in LA. Sure, there are buildings, cars and people, but it’s not huge. Instead it looks more like family run businesses running along a strip rather than the large sky-high, wall-to-wall glass buildings that devour LA. Once he blends himself in with the rest of the people walking by, no one stops him, yelling he should be back at the lodge. No one even really bothers to give him more than a passing look. Maybe the only good thing about the rehab lodge was it was renowned for its privacy and most patients in there, were there inconspicuously. Take Jackson for example, no one knew where he ended up.

Stiles finally stops when he finds what he’s looking for, the neon light flashing bright enough, even in broad daylight. He immediately crosses the street, ignoring the blares of horns as he j-walks into the busy intersection. He pushes open the door, not even bothering to remember what it was called other than the fact that it had ‘bar’ in it.

There’s not many people in there, maybe only two or three others but they don’t really pay him any attention and he doesn’t second glance them because he couldn’t give any less of a fuck who they were. He sidles up to the bar, sitting on the barstool in front of the bartender who’s cutting up some lemons.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, finally looking up at Stiles.

“Double vodka lime and soda, minimal soda.”

“Got ID kid?” the man snorts and yeah _that_ hasn’t happened in a long time. He’s grown accustomed to bypassing the long lines outside of clubs and bars in LA.

Stiles rolls his eyes but he knows betters that to piss off the man who provides the alcohol, fishing his wallet from his back pocket. He hands his licence over to the bartender – his _suspended_ licence, but the bartender doesn’t need to know that.

“The fuck kind of name is that?” the bartender asks scrubbing his ridiculously large beard – he could totally be a bear.

“All you need to worry about is the birth date. That vodka would be nice now.”

Bear shakes his head but gets to making Stiles’ double vodka, pouring a drop of soda in there. Stiles likes this guy already as he slides the drink the short distance across the bar to Stiles’, before he walks off somewhere.

Stiles chucks the straw out of the glass and starts to chug it, swallowing sip after sip until there’s only ice clinking at the bottom of the glass.

“Another,” he demands.

And Stiles, well Stiles is feeling a lot better. He feels as if the alcohol is coursing through his body, the warm sensation staring the minute the drink went down his throat, moving towards his belly. It’s the most amazing feeling he’s experience since he got to Beacon Hills. His head is spinning slightly from drinking it so fast, but it’s been too long, taking it slow would just be worse. It would be torture and Stiles is not in the habit of denying himself what he likes.

Bear starts making him another drink without saying a word, adding even less soda this time and hands it to Stiles. They continue their little charade a few more times until Stiles has lost count of how many drinks he’s had.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Bear asks leaning against the counter behind him, crossing his arms as he looks as Stiles whose eyes are now tinged red.

“Doubt it dude, not from around here.”

“Stilinski wasn’t it? Like Stiles Stilinski the TV personality?”

“Don’t tell me you watched that shit?” Stiles snorts as some of the vodka sloshes out the side of the cup.

“I have a son and a daughter,” Bear clarifies, “Stiles isn’t your first name?”

“Nope, no one calls me by my first name.”

“What are you doing in Beacon Hills?”

“Isn’t a bartender’s job _not_ to ask question?” Stiles deflects – he can’t tell a bartender he’s meant to be in rehab because he’s a supposed alcoholic.  

“Call me curious.”

“My friend, who is no longer a friend decided to dump me here as some sort of cruel, sick joke.”

“I can see why he’s not your friend anymore.”

“Precisely,” Stiles beams when he doesn’t have to ask Bear for another drink. He’s already mixing it and sliding it across.

The last thing Stiles remembers is slapping down more than enough twenty dollar bills to cover his tab and a generous tip before he leaves the bar. He should have stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you're enjoying it so far!
> 
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

Laura texts Maisie just before school is due to finish telling her that she was stuck at work and Maisie would have to make her own way home. It’s happened before, more times than Laura would like to admit – but that’s what happens when you run you own and run your own clothing store, and you can’t trust your employees to get their shit together. Normally though, she’s able to make it out of work in time to pick Maisie up from school so Derek could work.

Thankfully Derek understands and doesn’t mind the few times that Maisie does walk home on her own. He’s engrained it into her head to take the busy streets home, where there are crossing guards who keep an eye out on the children. It helps that nothing happens in Beacon Hills, everyone knows everyone and their business. Plus, Derek grudgingly bought Maisie a cell phone _(“really Laura, what 10 year old needs a cell phone?”_ Derek had snarked) so that she could be in contact with Derek or Laura at all times.

Maisie shoots Laura back a text saying it was okay, as she practically runs out of the school doors as the bell rings, slinging her backpack on. In all honesty, Maisie is kind of glad that Laura can’t pick her up today, because now she can walk to the local library and pick up the books she wanted to get. She tried to get them at the school library, but it was seriously lacking many books – it shouldn’t even be called a library. Not to mention the librarian at the school always gave Maisie a stern look when she tried to check out too many books, too many that were ‘above her school grade’ according to the librarian. You’d think a librarian would be _supportive_ of a student wanting to read.

As she’s walking down Main Street towards the library she contemplates whether she wants to buy a cherry slushy on the way home and if it would be possible to get rid of the red stain that would inevitably be on her tongue before her dad found it (“ _That’s ruining your dinner Maisie”,_ Derek would say). Her aunt Laura would let her get a slushy.

Maisie passes a dark alley between two buildings when she hears a groan – a groan that sounds like a dying seal. She stops in her tracks right on the edge of the entrance to the alley trying to catch a glimpse of what or who was there. She wants to make sure it’s not an injured animal, the amount of times that she’s brought home injured birds, a lost cat, a chipmunk separated from its family. Derek never had the heart to tell her that he doesn’t want the dirty animals in his house – Maisie was naturally a caring person and he couldn’t interfere with that.

“Hello?” she calls not wanting to walk further into the alley. She’s memorised, she can even visualise her father’s scowl, raise of his eyebrows, and set of his frown as he explains and re-explains all about stranger danger. Even his insistence as a gym instructor and former fighter to teach Maisie self-defence. “Anyone there?”

“-lo?” someone mumbles. Well that narrows it down; it wasn’t an injured animal after all.

“Who’s there? Are you hurt?” and against all Maisie’s better judgements, the never ending lectures from her father, she steps further into the darkened alleyway. It smells of trash and pee –not at all pleasant for a little lady like herself.

She takes a tentative step further in, her eyes scanning up and down to find where the source of the dying seal noises are coming from. There’s a slight movement near the heaps of garbage surrounding the over flowing dumpster. She leaps back in fear of seeing a large rat, reading about rats is one thing, and coming in contact with them scurrying about in an alleyway is another. She soon realises it’s not a rat, but a man in jeans and a t-shirt face down in the dirt, also the source of the dying seal noises.

“Hey mister, you alright there?” she gasps as the man manages to roll onto his back, a banana peel stuck to the side of his face, his lip cut open like he bit down too hard, blood trickling down his chin. “Stiles!”

Maisie doesn’t hesitate now to rush forward as she crouches down near to his head and tries to pry the banana peel from his face. Her nose wrinkles up at the horrendous smells that seem to stick on every inch of exposed skin on Stiles, seeping into his clothes.

“Do I know you?” Stiles slurs batting the little girls hand away.

“I met you a week ago, at the last taping of your show. Maisie Hale.”

“Don’t remember.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“-that’s what the red stuff is?” Stiles asks bringing his hand up to his lip, rubbing it and looking at his hand.

Maisie ignores Stiles, taking off her backpack, unzipping it and rooting around until she finds a little package of tissues. She places one against Stiles’ lip and is surprised when he doesn’t try and thrash away from her like she thought he would.

“You’re drunk,” Maisie notes.

“Oh God, not you too. You all get on my fucking case don’t you?”

“There’s no need to swear, if you were at my house that would be a dollar in the swear jar!”

Between Laura and Derek they manage to swear like sailors that Maisie has only ever read about in her books, even when they think Maisie is upstairs or in a different room. Derek for his part started doing better but Laura, she’d bash her toe on a table and swear, burn her hand on a hot pot and swear or find out there were no more cookies and swear. The swear jar amounted to a lot of one dollar bills that Maisie got to spend at the end of each month, she normally bought new books.

“Here,” Stiles makes a grab for his wallet and tries to hand Maisie a $20 note.

“I couldn’t,” Maisie tries to shove Stiles’ hand away and make him keep his own money. She does _not_ think about the new book she’d been eyeing that she could buy with that twenty dollars.

“Buy yourself some candy.”

“My dad said I shouldn’t accept candy from strangers.”

“That’s why I’m giving you the money geni-”

Stiles doesn’t get to finish whatever he was going to say, rolling on to his side and starts to heave. Vomit spews everywhere and thankfully all of it misses where Maisie was crouched. Maisie falls backwards on her hands in a haste to get as far away as she can before he manages to actually spew some on her. Stiles continues vomiting, and Maisie soon notices in horror, the red specks in his vomit, blood.

Maisie is a smart girl, she _knows_ she should call for an ambulance, but she’s startled and her brain isn’t running at full capacity. Not to mention how was she supposed to explain to her father what she was doing in an alley. Her only other option just _might_ if she’s really lucky help her avoid having to face her fuming father.

She reaches for her cell phone and dials number three on her speed dial.

“Uncle Boyd,” she frets into the phone, “I need your help. Please!”

Boyd tells her to stay right where she is and that he’d be there in five minutes. Maisie stays with Stiles, handing him another tissue to wipe away the remnants of vomit and tears streaking down his face. He’s crying “Sorry mom. I still love you. I still love dad. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Maisie wouldn’t, couldn’t have run away from the scene even if she wanted to, not now. She had to make sure Stiles was okay.

**

When Boyd finally pulls up with the Beacon Hills Lodge Rehab van, he doesn’t even have it in him to yell at his goddaughter for being in an alleyway on her own. The whole Lodge has been up in arms when Erica had gone to check on Stiles and realised he was missing. They locked down the whole building and started a full search for Stiles, to no avail. They needed to rectify the situation as soon as possible, not only was Stiles court ordered to be there but the Lodge has never had an escapee and they didn’t want their reputation being tarnished.

Boyd bundles Stiles into the back of the van laying him down on his side with a plastic bag near his head in case he gets sick again. He orders Maisie to sit in the front as they start the journey back to the lodge.

By the time they get back to the lodge there’s chaos everywhere. Various staff members stood outside waiting for the van to return; at the forefront is Dr Mahealani ordering someone to get a stretcher for the nurses to take Stiles to his office. Dr Mahealani tells Boys to worry about Maisie, someone else would handle Stiles.

Boyd leads Maisie into the building, turning down one hallway and another until they’re in the staff room. He places Maisie at a table, fetches her a juice box and a pack of Oreo’s to eat. She takes the juice box but doesn’t take the cookies, she can’t think about eating, not yet, not after what she saw.

“Sooo, any chance you’re not going to tell my dad?” Maisie asks putting on her best puppy dog eyes as she pokes the straw into the juice box.

“Not a chance in hell,” Boyd replies shaking his head, he retrieves his cell phone out of his pocket. “I should start telling you off myself but I’m sure your dad will do enough for the both of us.”

“If you think about it,” Maisie tilts her head, “I may have saved a life today. I shouldn’t get in trouble.”

Boyd sighs taking a few steps to stand in front of Maisie, kneeling down so they’re eye-to-eye. “Mase, what you did, staying with Stiles was incredibly brave. No one could say otherwise, but what if it wasn’t Stiles in the alley, it could have been someone dangerous, high off of something or violent.”

“I know,” Maisie sighs.

**

The minute Derek had found out, interrupted mid-training session by his receptionist, it didn’t take him more than a few minutes to clear out and head to the lodge. Where his daughter was currently sitting, when she should be at _home._

“What the hell is going on here?” Derek yells the minute he walks into the lodge. Maisie could hear him all way from the break room. “Where’s my daughter?”

A few seconds later Derek is being led to the break room by Erica.

“What the hell were you thinking Maisie Talia Hale?” Derek demands.

Maisie knew she was in for it alright. Derek never called her by her middle name unless she was in serious trouble, which didn’t happen too often.

She explains that she was on her way to the library when she heard someone, and when she realised it was Stiles she went to help. She conveniently left out the part where she didn’t actually _know_ who it was when she went into the alley. The bulge in Derek’s forehead seemed to say that if she told the whole truth he’d pop a blood vessel. She was only looking after her father’s health and not her ass, really.

“Where is he? Where is that little shit?” Derek bellows turning on his heels and walking out of the break room.

“Dad that’s-”

“I know, I know, swear jar. Where’s Stiles!”

Before anyone can stop Derek, he’s stomping down various hallways in search of Stiles. He eventually finds him in the doctor’s office lying on the waxy plastic that covers the examiner table, a drip hooked up to him, his eyes barely open. Dr Mahealani shouts for Derek to get out, not that Derek listens.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Causing a scene in front of my ten year old daughter? My ten year old daughter, who worships you, watched your show religiously!”

“Oh I remember you, the one with the sister who’s not a wife,” Stiles replies hoarsely as he opens his eyes because of all the commotion.

“You think because you’re from Hollywood, because you’re famous you can act like however the fuck you want and get away with it? My daughter should _never_ have seen that. How am I supposed to explain that to her now?”

Derek’s rant could have gone on for hours, with more than a few choice words (swear jar be damned) but he’s being dragged out of the room by Boyd. Boyd who was muttering in Derek’s ear that he should shut up and instead be focusing on his daughter right now, and not Stiles.

Rationally Derek knew Boyd was right, but that didn’t stop the anger that was boiling inside of him at Maisie having to see her childhood hero drunk and sick. She just didn’t need to see that, she’s young and still innocent.

When Derek is reunited with Maisie, he brings her in a bear hug and kisses the top of her head saying they’d speak later.

**

Later that evening once Stiles sobers up enough, he was put through hell. Dr Mahealani was far too kind to yell at him, but that didn’t stop Boyd. Boyd wasn’t a nurse or a doctor; he was an orderly and didn’t take shit from any of the patients. He took the opportunity to yell at Stiles.

The director of the lodge, which just so happens to be Stiles’ favourite person, the one and only therapist Deaton, told Stiles that his privileges had been revoked. Stiles would no longer get his hour of free time to do as he pleased (which basically consists of him spending time in the TV room or going on the nature hikes the Lodge planned – neither of which he even cared for) and instead he would spend it as extra mandatory therapy and the rest of the time would be spent in his room and the dining room for meals.

Stiles was allowed back in his room that night to sleep after the doctor was certain he wouldn’t vomit anymore blood, and after all the windows were checked so no other patients had any bright ideas about trying to escape. Fortunately the patients’ room windows could only open marginally, not nearly enough for an adult to sneak out of.

While Stiles was crawling into his bed trying to forget about the awful day, all he could hear was Jackson snickering the whole time telling him how much of an amateur and an idiot he was. Stiles doesn’t even have the energy in him to give him the middle finger, instead he pulls the blankets right over his head praying to fall into a slumber he’d never wake up from.

**

Laura apologies profusely the whole night, through dinner and after saying that if she had just picked up Maisie like she was supposed to then none of this would have happened. Derek knew it was true, but at the end of the day Laura was Maisie’s aunt – not her mother – and therefore shouldn’t have to consistently rearrange her own life to suit Derek and his daughter’s needs (even though she always did without hesitation).

The irony isn’t lost on Derek when he grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge to have with his dinner, trying to work out what he’s going to say to Maisie and prepare himself for any questions she may have about what transpired earlier. Derek should have known better, Maisie is his daughter after all and nothing ever went as he expected.

“I know he’s an alcoholic daddy,” Maisie says the minute Derek knocks and enters her room. She stops playing Fruit Ninja on Laura’s iPad setting it down beside her on the bed.

“And you know what an alcoholic is?” Derek asks pulling up Maisie’s too little desk chair to sit in at the side of Maisie’s bed. “Or did you just read it online?”

“I read it online,” Maisie shrugs, “but I know what it is. When someone drinks alcohol, are you an alcoholic?”

Derek’s lips tug up into a smile. For all that Maisie is smart sometimes things are harder to grasp than others. “No Mase, I’m not an alcoholic. I drink it, but I’m not dependent on it. There’s a difference.”

“So Stiles is dependent?”

“It would seem so, I don’t know the details. He needs help though, that’s why he’s with Uncle Boyd.”

“Uncle Boyd will take care of him, right?” Maisie asks scooting closer to face her father. “He _has_ to.” She runs her little finger over Derek’s furrowed brows trying to straighten them out.

“Of course he will. But Stiles has to want to help himself too, he needs his friends and family and time to get better.” Derek takes Maisie’s hand and kisses the palm of her hand, blowing a raspberry.

“Well I believe he’ll get better,” Maisie says sticking her chin out determined, “He has to, he’s Stellar Stiles!”

“Everyone has their problems, even Stellar Stiles. But let’s worry about our own problems, okay?”

“We don’t have any problems!”

“We sure don’t, unless you pull a stunt like that again,” Derek agrees pushing the chair back to stand. He grabs Maisie lifting her up and bringing her into a hug, her feet dangling off the bed.

“Dad!” Maisie squeals clutching around Derek’s neck so she doesn’t fall. Not that Derek would ever let that happen.

**

“How’d it go?” Laura asks later that night once Maisie’s asleep. She has a small smile on her face like she’s waiting for Derek to berate her, or break down.

“How do you think it went?” Derek huffs rolling his eyes, “It’s Maisie we’re talking about.”

He grabs another bottle of beer from the fridge, tossing the bottle cap on the counter as he sits across the table from Laura.

“Cheers to that,” Laura laughs lifting her beer bottle as they clink their bottles together.

Derek takes a chug of beer wondering how he ended up here in life. He doesn’t regret it, not one bit he loves Maisie and now he couldn’t picture his life like it was before. Sometimes though, parenting had its hard moments and he wished more than anything he could ask his mom or dad for advice, he knows they’d have been the most amazing grandparents ever. Sometimes he just feels like he’s gotten into too deep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying.
> 
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

Over the next few days Stiles felt as if he’d been beaten up by a gang, but at a tortuously slow pace, wanting to stretch the misery out as long as physically possible. It felt like an anchor being dropped down to the seabed, weighing Stiles down until the only thing he could focus on with pinpoint precision was the pain and misery. The sweating, shivering and cold sweats come back around the second time he’s detoxing, his only saving grace was he that he didn’t experience any more hallucinations, especially of his late mother. Instead he enjoyed dreamless nights.

He vaguely remembers Maisie’s dad (Derek?) barging in and berating him for the fact that his daughter was the one to find Stiles passed out drunk in an alleyway, his lip split and puking blood. That was enough to bring Stiles out of his stupor, skirting on the edge of unconsciousness. Not the yelling, no he’d dealt with that a million times over, from Scott, Allison, Lydia and even his father. It was the fact that a child had found him in his drunken state. _No_ child should ever have to witness or remember that.

Just after Stiles’ mother had passed away, and the few years that followed Stiles remembers seeing his father drunk. It wasn’t the kind of belligerent drunk people associated with alcoholism, not the kind of drunk that slurred their words, stumbled over their own feet or even becoming violent. It was the kind of drunk that happened when someone drank silently, sitting and dozing off in front of the TV, an empty bottle of scotch or a drained bottle of beer on the coffee table, the condensation ring fading.

It was the kind of drunk that could wake up the next morning raring to go to work before coming home later that night just to do it all over again. His dad had been the kind of drunk that became withdrawn, forgetting the people closest to you, whether it was by choice or not was the mystery. It was the kind of drunk that didn’t leave any physical evidence or signs of hurt to the people around them. Instead it was the psychological, emotional pain that burned their loved ones, while outsiders were none the wiser to what happened behind closed doors. That’s the problem with outsiders; it’s hard to tell when something is wrong in someone else’s house.   

Stiles’ father had been there for all the necessities in life, food, shelter, clothing but any affection ceased to exist after his mother passed away. It stayed that way for a few years and Stiles was none the wiser. He didn’t realise his father was an alcoholic, he wasn’t slurring his words or stumbling, Stiles just thought it was a normality in everyone’s house. He had no reason to actually think his father was an alcoholic, why would he?

Yet still, memories filters through his mind from when he was a child, of finding his father snoozing in front of the TV a bottle or two beers on the table. When Stiles would try and wake his father, it would literally take him shaking his father almost violently for the sheriff to finally wake up. Those moments before his father woke up Stiles would panic, a panic attack on the horizon, fearing that his father was dead. Dead just like his mother and he’d become an orphan with no mother or father.

Sure, Stiles wasn’t Maisie’s father he’d only met her twice now but still the trauma of finding someone in an alleyway drunk, whether it was a family member or not was traumatising. If Derek hadn’t berated Stiles, Stiles probably would have done it himself.

For Stiles it was literally the point of do or die. Not in the dramatic sense, no explosions, no action sequences, no passionate love scenarios like in the movies. Yeah, Stiles was in the entertainment industry – but that didn’t mean his life played out like one. He either had to sober up or risk another episode in the hospital, getting his stomach pumped, vomiting blood or worse yet really never waking up again. As much as he missed his mother, he was in no rush to join her just yet.

**

A few days later the detox symptoms have finally subsided. Stiles no longer wakes up dripping in sweat or shivering as if he’s in the Arctic. Instead he wakes up every morning with the cold hard reality, that he’s in rehab and he has to stay, has to get better. It’s not going to be easy, but he’s not going to let that stop him.

Jackson is his same insufferable self, but the kind that becomes familiar to Stiles. They dine together at each of their three meals; Jackson often wanders off during the day for his own various doctors and group therapy appointments. Stiles knows that it’s going to be his life soon enough – there’s no avoiding therapy as much as he’d like to.

“What’s your poison?” Jackson asks plopping down on the bed having just come back from his supervised leave from the centre.

“What?” Stiles is laying on his back staring at the ceiling, there’s not even any tiles to count.

“Your poison. You know, what was your drink of choice?”

“Oh. Vodka, beer, whisky if I was feeling particularly pretentious,” Stiles answers folding his arms behind his head so he can see Jackson. “You?”

“Steroids, coke when I needed a pick me up.” Jackson strips out of his shirt, putting a clean one on one and tossing the dirty one on the floor. He plops down on his own bed so he can see Stiles.

“Ever miss it?”

“Steroids nah, that shit fucks you up. Cocaine was a little harder to get over.”

“You’ve never been tempted to try and find some on your supervised visits out?”

“No.”

And that seemed to end that particular conversation.

It’s nearing 4 PM and Stiles is lounging on his bed flipping through an old edition of National Geographic’s that he found in what the lodge considers the library. Jackson is still on his bed, about to put his iPod in (why the fuck didn’t Stiles think to pack his?) when they both hear a tapping noise from their bedroom window.

Stiles almost falls off his bed and Jackson removes his headphones. “What the fuck?”

The tapping noise still continues – and that’s when they realise it’s a little pieces of rocks and debris being thrown at the window. Which is strange because no one is allowed outside without permission (and security has increased tenfold thanks to Stiles’ little get away) and the staff certainly wouldn’t be throwing rocks. Jackson shoves Stiles closer to the window, Jackson right on his tail as they push open the window as far as it’ll go and peer outside.

“Let me in.”

“What the fuck -” Jackson starts.

“That’s money in the swear jar.”

“Maisie?!” Stiles screeches, “What are you doing here?”

“Who the hell is that?” Jackson asks.

“I brought AirHeads,” Maisie flashes six long bars of the candy like a peace offering.

“I like AirHeads,” Jackson shrugs – even though he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

“Yeah maybe because you are one,” Stiles mumbles even as he starts to lower his hands down through the opening in the window to grab Maisie’s backpack and bringing it into the room, dropping it on the ground. “Help me,” Stiles orders as Jackson also sticks his hand down the opening as the two men each grab one of Maisie’s hands and hoists her up. She’s light as a feather and small enough to fit through the space of the window without a problem as they gently set her on her feet.

“Sour green apple?” Maisie asks holding it up to Stiles.

“Blueberry,” Stiles shakes his head grabbing the blue berry strip. “Though I prefer Sour Skittles.”

“I like green apple,” Jackson chimes in and Maisie happily hands him the strip of candy.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks Maisie again, even as he greedily rips open the candy. The food wasn’t terrible here – but there wasn’t any candy, only cookies or slices of cake for dessert. Stiles likes his sour candy and Airheads were a welcome gift.

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Maisie shrugs plopping down on the edge of Stiles’ bed.

“Again, who are you?” Jackson questions.

“A fan of Stiles’.”

“Apparently my number one fan,” Stiles snorts.

Maisie gets up from the edge of the bed as she walks around the room inspecting everything as she goes like the curious child that she is. She stops where she’s on Jackson’s side of the room as she stares at the walls, a frown on her face.

“Why are there posters of yourself on the wall?” she asks.

“Don’t get him started,” Stiles groans even as Jackson punches him in the shoulder. “Is there a reason you didn’t use the front door?”

“There’s no way they’d let me in,” Maisie says putting her hands on her hips, cocking her head to the side.

“Does your dad know you’re here?”

“No, he’s at work.”

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Stiles hedges. He really does _not_ want to feel the wrath of Derek again. Because he’s pretty sure this time it won’t just be yelling, he’ll be throttled.

“It’s not as if you’re a stranger,” Maisie points out, “Well he is,” she points to Jackson. She walks back to Stiles’ side of the room and sits on the bed cross-legged.

Jackson scowls before sitting on his own bed chewing on his candy like a petulant child, having grown bored of the conversation between Stiles and Maisie.

“Uh, well listen,” Stiles began as he rubs at the back of his neck, sitting down next to Maisie. “I’m sorry about the way you found me, you know, a few days ago? No kid should have to see that.”

“I know you’re an alcoholic,” Maisie says, scooting on the bed closer to Stiles – and wow did she ever get to the point. “I read it online, and my dad told me. But alcoholics can get better, and so I know you can. You’re Stellar Stiles – you can do anything.”

“I can’t fly,” Stiles tries, going for a joke because this kid was smart and probably a little _too_ optimistic. But that’s the way it goes with kids, they think everything is possible; it’s adorable until they’re hit in the face with reality.

“I did mean in the realm of possibility,” Maisie rolls her eyes, and okay she was sharp as a razor as well. Stiles already likes her.

“Well, don’t get your hopes up or anything,” Stiles sighs laying back on the bed his feet dangling off the edge of the bed.

Maisie hands out the rest of her AirHeads splitting it between herself, Stiles and Jackson. They finish off the candies until their tongues are a swirl of different colours, raw from the sourness. Maisie relentlessly asks Jackson about his posters until he finally answers, telling her all about him playing lacrosse. She tells him she’ll Google him later. Jackson looks a little too smug about that, the conceited little shit. Maisie then shifts her focus to Stiles and the National Geographic magazine he’d been reading. She starts a dramatic retelling, with hand gestures and everything about an article she read about uncontacted tribes around the world.

Maisie gets up from the edge of the bed, grabbing her backpack. “I’ll remember Sour Skittles next time,” she promises.

“I don’t think there should be a next time,” Stiles sighs despite the fact that he’s actually enjoyed the last hour, more so than the limited time he’s spend here. Stiles and Jackson hoist Maisie up and gently plant her on the ground outside the window.

“See you next time,” Maisie whisper-yells running off.

**

“Hey Mase,” Derek calls out the minute he enters the house after work later that evening. He finds Maisie perched at the kitchen island her face practically glued to the computer screen. It’s strange that she’s even on the laptop because her head is normally planted in a book, or doing homework. She only ever goes on the computer after Derek’s home from work.

“Why are you reading about lacrosse?” he asks peering over Maisie’s shoulder, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Oh! Hi daddy,” Maisie startles when she realises her dad is behind her. She’d been too focused on the article she was reading.

“Why are you reading about lacrosse?” Derek repeats.

“Oh you know, just interested.”

Derek spots another tab open on the internet browser with the name Jackson Whittemore. He starts to wonder if he needs to enhance the parental security on the laptop – but it’s not even like lacrosse is R rated or anything. But since when has his daughter ever taken an interest in sports? Never.

Derek sighs ruffling his daughter’s hair. “The more I try and understand you kiddo. I’m going to go take a shower then start dinner.”

That night after Maisie’s asleep; Derek goes through the internet history and opens the pages Maisie had opened earlier. The ones about Jackson Whittemore and lacrosse. He reads through the article, how he’d been a rising lacrosse player from LA playing for the San Francisco Dragons before he was tested positive for illegal substances and had fallen off the face of the earth.

First Stiles, now Jackson, what was it with Maisie’s interest in drug addicts and alcoholics? Derek doesn’t know whether to be worried or if this was Maisie’s way of dealing with it, researching about stuff until she understood every tiny little aspect. Either way it was unsettling – alcohol and drugs _shouldn’t_ be an interest to a ten year old, or anyone for that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on tumblr
> 
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling kinda eh about this chapter, but here it is nonetheless.

Stiles wants to get better, he really does. Not that he even admits he has a _problem,_ not out loud at least. He thinks, theoretically at least, that he could stop drinking alcohol without being in this dump. The thing that alarmed him the most was the blood he vomited, and he’s in no hurry to relive that any time soon. He shows up to his meals with Jackson, his doctor’s appointments with Dr Mahealani on time, he even shows up to see Dr Deaton in therapy. Only he doesn’t actually _talk_ to Deaton.

He’s all for making the necessary improvements in life (if only to prove he’s well enough to leave already), but talk to therapist? He’d rather chop his own tongue off. Confiding in a man he hardly knew about stuff that wasn’t depressing or all that interesting, well it was depressing in its own right. Stiles doesn’t want to lie down on a couch and gush about his feelings while Dr Deaton nods along and jots down notes in an ostentatious leather bound journal.

So instead, they sit for an hour, from two PM to three PM in complete silence staring at each other. The only other noise echoing in the room is the ticking of the clock (which was starting to get on Stiles’ last nerve) and their own breathing. Stiles has to admit that Deaton is pretty good at the whole staring contest thing, though he doubts Deaton even realises Stiles is actually holding said staring contest. For all that Stiles actually _loves_ to talk about any and everything, this was one instance where not uttering one word came to him as easy as Lydia spinning a PR story.

At the end of each hour Dr Deaton will sigh, close his journal and say ‘see you tomorrow,’ to which Stiles would snort, stand up and dust his pants of the imaginary dirt and leave the office, making the quick escape to his and Jackson’s room. Jackson was always just getting in around the same time, from his supervised outing he was granted (Stiles doubts they’d let him step foot off of the property before he makes a run for it again).

Funnily enough Jackson loves to cook and had somehow convinced one of the top chefs in Beacon Hills to agree to private cooking lessons. Jackson took to it like a fish in water (even though he killed said fish to cook) and it was something he actually enjoyed doing. Not to mention actually getting to leave the lodge was worth it alone.

Just like clockwork, that’s been happening for the past two weeks the two men hear the tell-tale sign of debris hitting the window – Maisie was here. She’d found a small broken log in the woods that she rolled up to the window so she could perch on to climb in through the window with the help of Jackson and Stiles. Every afternoon just as she was leaving she rolls the log a few feet away hidden under some leaves and dirt. Despite Stiles telling her not to come back after the first day, she showed up persistently and talked Stiles’ and Jackson’s ear off. Eventually Jackson stopped grumbling about it, and he grumbled about _everything_ (“I can’t control my snoring, Jesus Jackson put your fucking headphones in,” Stiles would grouse every morning after Jackson bitched).

“Sour Skittles for you,” Maisie announces handing Stiles the green bag. “AirHeads for you, Jackson.”

Every day without fail Maisie shows up with Sour Skittles and AirHeads as if she were Santa and Jackson and Stiles were the little kids giddily waiting for their presents.

“Should I be concerned that you’re stealing these?” Stiles jokes, not that it stops him from tearing the bag open and popping all the purple Skittles in his mouth first. Those were the first ones he ate, saving all the red ones for last. Jackson always looked at him like he was crazy, but there _was_ a method to his madness.

“Of course not,” Maisie rolls her eyes, “I do get an allowance you know.”

Maybe Stiles should feel a little guilty that a kid was buying him candy every day from her own allowance. He notes that he should give her some money so she can buy a stack of candies for him and Jackson that way she doesn’t spend her own money. Although it would be hard to try and hide all the wrappers without any of the staff seeing (no outside foods or other prohibited items in case they try and smuggle in drugs or some shit). If they saw the packages even though they probably would have allowed it, would raise suspicion and Stiles is on theoretical probation as it is.

“Hey where does your dad think you are every afternoon?”

“I told him I joined the Green Team at school.”

“The Green Team?” Jackson snorts.

“You know, to save the planet?” she sighs like Jackson is a dumbass and she needs to spell everything out.

“Lying to the parentals, I don’t think I even started that early,” Stiles notes.

“Anyway,” Maisie sighs getting bored, “I brought Oceanopoly,” rummaging through her backpack and lo and behold there was a board game in there. She lays it flat out on Stiles’ bed removing the lid and taking the pieces out. She ushers Stiles and Jackson to sit on the bed around the board.

“Jackson, you’re the crab-” Stiles snorts even as Jackson scowls and extends his hand as Maisie drops the crab piece into his hand. Another thing the two men learned about Maisie, there was _no_ room for argument with her, and she always gets her way. “Stiles, you’re the seahorse and I’m the starfish.”

“Aw man, I wanted to be the shark fin,” Stiles protests.

“You know how cool seahorses are?” Maisie squeaks her eyes turning bright. “The male seahorse has the babies! They sometimes mate for life and when the daddy seahorse is pregnant the mom will come every morning to see him, and sometimes they hook tails together so they can spend some time before the mom seahorse has to leave.”

Stiles scrunches his face. “Well I don’t mate for life.”

“Neither does my dad,” Maisie whispers, “But he takes care of me just like a daddy seahorse!”

The sad distant look in Maisie’s face tugs at Stiles’ heart strings and he doesn’t have it in him to argue that he really wants to be the shark fin. He’ll stick with the seahorse just to make Maisie happy; she did kind of make them sound badass. Besides it beats being a crab like Jackson, sucker.

Forty five minutes later Jackson flips the board over sending the game pieces, cards and money flying and fluttering to the ground. “This is bullshit!”

“Money in the swear jar!” Stiles cries pointing an accusing finger at Jackson, Maisie giggles. Oh yeah, that’s why Stiles didn’t feel _too_ bad not giving Maisie money for the daily candy she brought, Jackson swore like a pirate and Maisie had been pretty adamant about the swear jar rule. Almost every day Jackson was coughing up more and more money for the amount of f-bombs and other bad words he said.

“Whatever,” Jackson grumbles handing Maisie a dollar bill.

“You’re such a sore loser,” Stiles laughs as Jackson gives him the middle finger (“That totally doesn’t count as swearing” Jackson argued). Jackson manages to go bankrupt in Oceanopoly, spending all his money on the worst properties and landing on one of Stiles or Maisie’s properties and ended up having to pay them.

Maisie has the most properties and the most money (but Stiles can’t be sure now that Jackson flipped the board) but he’s pretty sure Maisie counts it as a win for herself anyway.

Stiles helps pick up the game pieces and pack them away. Maisie normally leaves around 4:30 to get home before her dad got home so as not to raise any suspicion. Besides, Stiles’ and Jackson’s dinner was at 5 (you’d think they lived at an old people’s home). They help her out the window, watch as she rolls the log away and runs off home again.

When Stiles had asked how Maisie even managed to get in without being seen from the staff, she explained that the forest was actually on a preserve and her house was on the edge of it, while the lodge was in the middle. She could easily get to the lodge from her house if she followed a trail which led to the back of the lodge where none of the staff bothered to look. It was pretty genius, but then again they were talking about Maisie Hale.

**

Maisie seemed to be getting happier and happier by the day and Derek found that extremely strange. Okay, he shouldn’t be questioning why his daughter was happy, he should just be happy for her. But considering only weeks ago she was complaining about having to go to school and pleading her case for home schooling, to this. Well it was strange. Derek also couldn’t deny he liked this new, happy Maisie.

When he finally asked his daughter what was up with her (in the nicest way possible) he was even more dumbfounded by the answer.

“I joined the Green Team.”

“The Green Team?”

“Yeah. You know, like saving the planet? Don’t you want me to save the planet?” Maisie asks bewildered.

“Of course I do pumpkin. I’m very proud of you,” Derek answers kissing his daughter on the top of her head before walking away to prepare dinner.

That was the last of that conversation and Derek never thought to question it. If she was going to participate in extracurricular activities in school, he was on board. Maybe she’d even make some friends out of it.

**

“Mr Stilinski, Stiles. Eventually you are going to have to talk to me,” Dr Deaton sighs one afternoon during their routine therapy sessions – or rather, their hour of silence.

“Like hell I will.”

It’s almost been a month since Stiles has been here, three weeks since he’s decided he actually wants to get the help he needs. His only failure has been the fact that he still refuses to talk to Dr Deaton. He’ll go along with the group therapy where he can get away with not talking, routine check-ups with Dr Mahealani and his free time.

“I don’t understand. Dr Mahealani has recorded in his notes that since your last set back when you first arrived that you’ve been making a conscious effort to get better. You’ve been attending other appointments, eating your meals and made a friend in Jackson,” Stiles tires to hold his snort in because he doesn’t know if he’d go so far as to say he’s _actually_ friends with Jackson. “While Jackson has made tremendous progress, he’s also hardly been the type to be friendly to other patients here,” Dr Deaton reads from his notebook.

“Misery loves company,” Stiles shrugs.

“This whole program is court ordered for you, Stiles. Despite the progress you’re making outside of my office, when asked to give my review to the judge, he or she will deem you’ll have to spend more time here until you complete my therapy sessions. I don’t want to be forced to extend the hour you spend in here, to an hour and a half or two.”

Stiles bristles at the thought of having to spend even longer in here – not just because he doesn’t want to, but because of Maisie. Maisie always came by after school and if Stiles wasn’t there, because he was stuck in therapy, then she might leave. It suddenly hits Stiles in that instant that he actually looks forward to seeing Maisie every day, her incessant chattering, the candies she brings, and how easily she gets under Jackson’s skin. That’s probably the most hilarious and oddly comforting thing to Stiles, especially in a place where he knows no one and no one he really wants to get to know.

“I just don’t see how my talking is going to help any,” Stiles finally admits. Maybe if he gives an inch Deaton will back off and he won’t have to spend more than his mandatory hour in here.

“You’d be surprised how talking about anything can help, your stream of consciousness.”

“I once wrote an essay about the male circumcision in my economics exam.”

“There have been studies that show the psychological trauma as men get older about having been circumcised as a child,” Dr Deaton nods writing in his journal. “Do you think that’s something that has affected you?”

“What?” Stiles screeches sitting up with a ramrod straight back his eyes like flying saucers. “What, no! How do you even know if I’m circumcised or not? You said talk about anything that was my attempt at a joke, my poor attempt.”

“And is there a reason why you hide behind humour and sarcasm?”

“Listen,” Stiles sighs slouching back down on the couch. He splays his arms out over the arm of the couch in a dramatic pose. “I’ve been like that for as long as I can remember. It’s not about to change and I don’t _want_ it to change.”

“Let us talk about when you were a child,” Dr Deaton suggests.

“Happy life, then mom got sick. She had cancer, died. Then it was just me and my dad. Not much to tell.”

“There seems to be a lot to tell, talk to me about your mother.”

Stiles doesn’t like to talk about his mother, to have to think and yearn to see her but can’t. He’s reminded of the dream he had when he first got here, when she appeared to him and was so disappointed. Stiles doesn’t realise it, but soon he’s explaining it all to Deaton, like the flood gates have opened up and everything pours out of his mouth. He even starts answering the stupid questions Deaton throws at him, it’s like he’s been put under a truth spell and he couldn’t even shut up if he wanted to.

He explains how his parents sat him down one night, told him that his mother had cancer. His world and come crumbling down, when he finally understood what it meant. That his mother would die eventually, not years down the road, but in a matter of months. Claudia, his mother, explained that it would okay, that his way she wouldn’t be in a lot of pain that she wouldn’t have to put him and his father through a lot of pain. Except she was wrong, when she was gone from this world no longer feeling pain, everyone she left behind had to deal with the pain every single day. Even when the pain became bearable, it was still there, lingering in the background.

Stiles remembers one night, a few days after the funeral when his father just started yelling. He wasn’t yelling to anyone in particular but just started knocking things over before he collapsed in a fit of tears.

“Did your father drink?” Dr Deaton asks after Stiles has a minute to recover from talking for so long. His voice is scratchy and he really needs a glass of water.

“Yes, but he wasn’t an alcoholic.”

“He wasn’t?”

“No.”

“There’s not just one type of alcoholic, Stiles. Not just the kind that’s dishevelled, blacks out for days on end. There are subtypes of alcoholics, functional alcoholics being one of them. Your father could quite possibly fit into that category, a middle aged man in a healthy relationship, a good education and steady job. They’re often successful, witty and social. To outsiders no one would know.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at Deaton, not wanting to hear any of this, not wanting to believe it.

“He wouldn’t need to drink all the time, some days he could probably go without a drink. A lot of times it may not even hinder his work life.”

“No,” Stiles spits. “My father wasn’t an alcoholic.”

“What better way to numb the pain then through alcohol?”

“But I was still there!” Stiles yells his eyes burning from trying to fight back the tears. “I was alive, I was his family and he needed alcohol? What was it, I wasn’t enough? I reminded him of my mom too much?”

Stiles can’t hold the tears back now, slowly running down his face before he quickly wipes them away with the back of his hand. Dr Deaton leans across the table to hand Stiles a box of tissues and sits back in silence, his chin perched in his hands until Stiles can compose himself.

“I can’t speak for your father,” Dr Deaton starts, “but your relationship was better as you got older wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Stiles explains about when his father met Melissa and they started dating. How the alcohol slowly disappeared and he became more like his old self again. He became more focused and in tune with Stiles, there to show him love and affection. How when Stiles met Scott, Melissa’s son, they got on instantly calling themselves brothers and going everywhere and doing everything together.

Stiles doesn’t begrudge his father for marrying Melissa, he admits he had his moments where he wanted nothing more than for his mother to be alive and have his old life back. But Stiles was pragmatic and he knew it wasn’t possible. Seeing his father happy, wanting to actually spend time with Stiles and if that was because of Melissa than Stiles would take it.

Melissa dotes on Stiles, treats him just like she treats Scott but she never tried to replace Stiles’ mother. She had said as much but that it didn’t mean she would love Stiles any less then she loved Scott. Melissa had a good heart and it was hard to not like her. Stiles laughs about it now, he thinks his mom and Melissa would have gotten along had they known each other.

By the end of the hour Stiles is utterly exhausted and Dr Deaton looks pleased. Deaton is happy they’ve made some progress that Stiles has finally chosen to open up and can only hope it continues. He says he’s proud of Stiles – not in a condescending way – and that he’ll Stiles at his next appointment. Stiles nods his head, blows his nose one last time and tosses the used tissue in the garbage before leaving.

**

“You look like shit,” Jackson jokes the minute Stiles walks into their shared bedroom. Stiles’ eyes are still red, his face splotched from tears. “Deaton finally break you down?”

“Fuck off,” Stiles grumbles flopping down onto the bed, on his back.

“I cried in one of my meetings with Deaton,” Jackson admits. “Tell anyone that and I’ll kill you and dissolve your body in acid.”

That makes Stiles smile because it sounds like something he’d say. He’s definitely starting to rub off on Jackson, even if Jackson doesn’t realise it.

“Really?” Stiles perks up, leaning up onto his forearms to get a better look at Jackson.

“Yes really, I’ll kill you.” Stiles rolls his eyes at Jackson waiting for him to continue. “Yeah I cried man, so what?”

“Nothing,” Stiles shrugs.

It’s comforting to know that Jackson cried as well, because he actually was a firm believer in misery loves company. Stiles doesn’t want to actually admit it but it was kind of, enlightening, to talk to Deaton about everything. He feels like s weight has been lifted off of his chest, a constant pressure that’s been there for so long he’d grown numb to it. He logically knows he hasn’t been magically cured, that just after one good session with Deaton he’ll be allowed to leave. But it is a step in the right direction. The longer he keeps it up, the sooner he can get the hell out though.

When Maisie shows up on time she’s got a new board game in tow – Telephone Tag. It was meant for preteen girls to play, moving around the board with their little telephone pieces as they collect messages from their fantasy boyfriends and getting to their destination. Stiles is a little depressed that his “fantasy boyfriend,” is about as close as he’ll get to any action in this place.

He gets a little too into the game, whooping and cheering a little too loudly before Jackson tells him to shut up before someone comes in. Then Jackson starts moving all the pieces back to the starting point because he’s determined to win at least one of their games, even if it is meant for pre-teens as he eagerly waits for a message from his pretend boyfriend.

Oh how the might really have fallen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also,[Telephone Tag](http://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/9760/telephone-tag) is totally a game - I used to own it and play it all the time. About as close as I'll get to a man these days as well (haaa, oh God).
> 
> Also: [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

“Well hey there Sailor,” Stiles bows tipping his pretend hat at Maisie. It’s the day after Halloween and she’s just snuck in with her backpack and another white bag with a ghost face. She’s dressed in her normal school clothes with the exception of a sailor hat. Stiles smacks Jackson in the back urging him on.

“Look at you decked out,” Jackson finally chimes in with a pleasant smile – and at least he’s not actually faking it.

Maisie beams as she does a little curtsey. “I couldn’t wear my full costume that would have seemed strange, so I can only show you my hat.”

“I’m sure your father took some pictures,” Stiles says.

“Oh he did, believe me,” Maisie sighs. “Maybe I can steal one from his computer to show you guys. Here.” She hands Stiles the white ghost bag and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees all the candies in there. “I brought those for you and Jackson.”

“What, no way, let me see!” Jackson exclaims rushing to see what goodies are in the bag.

“I took my share already,” Maisie shrugs sitting down on the bed as usual.

This week’s board game is Sweet Valley High, yet another variation of moving around the board as the characters try and find their boyfriends and what they need for their date. Jackson is Enid, Maisie is Elizabeth and Stiles is Lila. Surprisingly enough Jackson is the one that actually wins the game, and he cheers as he shoves a Tootsie Roll into his mouth.

Stiles wants to know how the hell Maisie has all these random old board games, and why she doesn’t have normal kids games like Hungry Hungry Hippo or something. She explains that her aunt, Laura, is a huge fan of old board games and she’s kept all the ones from when she was in a teenager in the games cupboard. So Maisie just picks whichever one she finds interesting and brings it for them to play.

“Well I think you better find a different game that doesn’t involve us trying to find our boyfriends. I think Jackson is getting a little too into it,” Stiles jokes.

Jackson does not push Stiles off the bed, except he totally does. So Stiles hides the rest of the candy on his side of the room giving Jackson the evil eye when he asks for some more.

“I’ll bring Clue next week,” Maisie promises. “Enjoy the candy!”

**

Stiles is somewhat surprised, and immensely proud of himself that he hasn’t gone stark crazy yet. Granted it’s only been about two months, but he’s barely seen the outside world. He’s allowed (finally) to go outside of the Lodge, still on the Lodge grounds for supervised (usually by Boyd who threatens to put Stiles on one of those kid leashes) for nature walks.

He hasn’t seen, or talked to anyone outside of the Lodge – except for Maisie. He hasn’t heard from Scott, Allison, Lydia or his dad, but he supposes that’s what happens when you push people away. He doesn’t exactly want to talk to any of them anyway; still upset with them even though he knows they’re doing what they think is right. But he’d still like the satisfaction of knowing that they at least _tried_ to call and talk to him – not that he gets said satisfaction.

It’s nearing the end of Stiles’ and Dr Deaton’s therapy sessions and Stiles is up and about to exit before Deaton stops him. He curses under his breath thinking that he’s about to get reprimanded for _something_. He’d been careful to hide the candy wrappers so that they staff don’t find it, and if he’s going down he’s sure as hell taking Jackson with him.

“Mr Stilinski, you’re aware of our program we’ve set up with some of our patients, an outing to a preapproved location? As we believe it helps our patients interact with the outside world while still recovering.”

“Like Jackson with his cooking,” Stiles nods.

“Precisely,” Stiles nods flopping back down in the leather chair so Deaton will continue. “Considering the improvement I feel you’ve made these past two months I feel as if it’s something you could greatly benefit from. Of course in the beginning its probationary, should anything go wrong.” He narrows his eyes at Stiles like he just _knows_ that Stiles could somehow manage to mess it up.  

“Seriously? I can get out of this never ending maze?” Stiles absolutely, definitely perks up at that.

Dr Deaton walks around to his large desk, flipping through various sheets of paper, handing it to Stiles. “For a pre-approved amount of time, in a pre-approved location, yes. Here’s a list, take a look and let me know if anything interests you. You can tell me tomorrow.” The sheet has a list of numbered activities, with a description of what he’d get to do should he choose the activity.

Stiles’ eyes quickly glance down the list, “ _boring, boring, nope, what the actual fuck?_ ” Stiles thinks as he reads the activities. Something finally catches his eye and he smirks “ _well that’s definitely interesting._ ”

“Activity 24,” Stiles chooses with absolute certainty.

“Are you sure, don’t you want to think about it a little longer?” Deaton asks.

“Positive,” Stiles answers with the Grinch of all smirks, handing Deaton back the list.

If Stiles had a little spring to his step as he left the office it wasn’t at all because he was a little shit and liked to raise a little hell. Okay it was about only 94.6% he a little shit.

**

Stiles’ pre-approved activity starts two days after he and Deaton had spoken about it. It was on a Friday which meant that he wouldn’t get to go back until Monday, but it served as a tester to make sure it was something he was interested in. He got from 1PM until 2:30PM away from the centre, Stiles was going to make the most of it.

Boyd is his chauffer, yet Erica somehow invites herself along for the ride claiming that she needs ‘fresh air,’ despite the fact that she’s the one that normally leads the nature walks. Stiles isn’t stupid though, he knows it’s just an excuse for the two of them, Boyd and Erica, to spend an hour and a half together away from the Lodge and still get paid for it. Not to mention they were totally fucking.

“We’re dating, not fucking. Not that it’s any of your business,” Erica sneers when Stiles asked one night at dinner while he was sitting with Jackson. He had asked about a month and a half ago when he was still in his ‘fuck the world’ attitude. Stiles couldn’t blame them, he’d do the same thing if he could, get away from his workplace with his boyfriend and still get paid for it. Not that he had a job, or a boyfriend, but you know – the theory still applies.

Ever since then it seems as if Boyd and Erica have grown to tolerate Stiles, just as Stiles was learning to tolerate them. Isaac was still wary of Stiles, giving him looks like Isaac was just waiting for Stiles to snap and lunge at him. He wasn’t rude about it though, Isaac, which was the worst Stiles would just rather he voice his concern to Stiles rather than give him those silent looks.

Stiles takes in his surroundings as they drive to his location, taking in all the buildings and landscapes. He hadn’t paid attention when he and Scott were on the way here, and he definitely didn’t pay attention when he escaped, just on the lookout for the one thing he cared about – a bar. They pull into a little strip of buildings and Stiles can tell they’ve arrived.

“ **One Hale of a Workout** ” the building sign reads. How tacky – yet it worked, it is after all what piqued Stiles’ interest in the first place.

Boyd gets out of the van walking around to the other side to meet Stiles. Boyd gives him just one look the “don’t fuck this up,” look. Stiles rolls his eyes and pats Boyd on the shoulder. Hello, this is Stiles after all.

The inside of the building is all dark colours, black and grey and although it _should_ be depressing it seems to oddly fit with the atmosphere of the place. There’s a beautiful woman with long brown hair straight hair and brown eyes behind the reception desk when Stiles walks in. Her head snaps up and she smiles, her perfect white teeth a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding her as she stands up. She walks around the desk, shaking Stiles’ hand, introducing herself as Rachael. She’s dressed in black yoga pants and a pink workout tank top yet she doesn’t look as if she’s worked out at all, her makeup and hair still perfect.

“You must be our new special guest,” she smiles, although it’s a tight pinched smile and Stiles knows what that means. It means he’s a ‘special guest’ not because he’s famous, or a new member to the gym but because he’s a ‘special guest’ from the rehab centre.

Stiles starts to feel uneasy, his excitement at being able to leave the lodge soon dissipating. He never thought he’d actually _miss_ the safeness of the lodge where no one actually judges him. Well except for Jackson, but he’s used to that. He doesn’t want people to look at him with knowing, pitiful looks.

She turns around and starts to lead him somewhere further into the gym. Stiles tries, and fails not to look at her ass, because they look fantastic in those yoga pants and he hasn’t had sex, let alone had much of a long masturbation session in way too long. Even though Stiles hasn’t swung the vagina route in well over a year, a fine ass is still a fine ass.

Rachael reaches for a neatly folded, crisp white towel from a pile and grabs some workout clothes and a pair of Nike’s handing them to Stiles. This gym went all out apparently, Stiles having filled out his sizes back at the Lodge a few days ago so that they were prepared for him.

“These should fit you. Men’s room is right there and there’s a door at the back that leads straight to the gym, enjoy your time,” she smiles, her smile back to genuine and not pitying. As she leaves Stiles resists the urge to watch her walk away, because that’s just boarding on skeevy.

Stiles changes into the clothes Rachael had given him; it’s a pair of black basketball shorts and a black t-shirt that has the ‘One Hale of a Workout’ logo on it. Stiles snickers to himself as he looks at himself in the mirror before shoving his own clothes into his locker. He takes the key that’s attached to a neon spring coil bracelet and puts it on his wrist so he doesn’t lose it. Stiles walks out into the gym area through the backdoor from the locker room. There’s exercise machines scattered around the perimeter with an octagon boxing ring in the middle – like being centre stage.

None other than Derek Hale is in the middle of said centre stage, currently sparring with an equally buff man. The man is wearing the same Everlast grappling gloves, Derek bounces from one foot to the other, trying to punch the man. It looks as if they’re dancing around each other, that is, until Derek lunges at the other man.

Stiles watches, just a little bit amazed at Derek who’s currently all sweaty in a white wife beater and black shorts with the gym logo, completely focused on hitting and getting his opponent on the ground. With each punch and shove the other man gets knocked farther back each time, getting closer to the edge. Fighting shouldn’t be so hot, not to Stiles anyway – he never used to watch mixed martial arts on TV. But with Derek Hale, it was hot.

As if Derek can read his thoughts, or maybe just sense someone else in the gym, his eyes move from his opponent to glance in Stiles’ directions. His gaze instantly hardens. It’s a rookie mistake – Derek should have known better, because the second his gaze leaves his opponent, his opponent takes the opportunity to throw his own punch. The punch lands right to the side of Derek’s head, directly into his helmet his whole body stumbling to the side.

Derek stumbles back, thrown off guard. His opponent raises his hands in the air cheering, as he takes his gloves off.

“You alright Hale? I almost never win,” the man asks.

“I’m fine Duke, lucky win,” Derek grunts. He takes his gloves off, unbuckling his helmet. He walks to the side of the ring, swinging the wire door open and jumps down onto the blue mats. He strides towards Stiles, ignoring anyone that tries to get his attention.

“Anyone but you,” Derek says his eyes level with Stiles’.

“They didn’t tell you I was coming?” Stiles replies, his mouth in a lopsided smirk.

“They told me _someone_ was coming. I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to show your face here.”

Derek _really_ should have listened when Rachael had told him he had a new client coming from the Lodge. He didn’t really care, didn’t pay attention to the name. It was just another client, another job.

“Well, there’s no one new at the Lodge. So if they didn’t want to come to this meat fest before, why would they now?” Stiles hands are flailing about, showcasing the whole gym trying to get his point across.

Derek crosses his arms with a put out sigh. Stiles’ arms are flying about, animated. Derek isn’t entirely sure that Stiles wasn’t currently strung out on drugs, forget the alcohol.

“You don’t want to be a detriment to my recovery do you?” Stiles prods.

“I could care less.” It’s a lie, Derek is all for people recovering. He’d just rather anyone else here but Stiles, the one that traumatised his daughter.

“Fine,” Stiles fake sighs, “I’ll be leaving then. To sit outside waiting for Boyd to come back. For an hour and a half, all on my lonesome. I hope I don’t catch a chill.”

Stiles turns around to walk back towards the locker room as slowly as he can manage. He bows his head looking down at his shoes, sighing as he trudges along.

“Okay,” Derek yells. “Fine, come on.”

Stiles’ head snaps up, a grin back on his face as he spins around back towards Derek.

“Warm up first, and then exercise,” Derek instructs.

Derek leads Stiles to the blue mats that encompass the fighting cage, starting to stretch and instructing Stiles to do the same. Stiles isn’t a first grader, he does know how to fucking stretch – not that he says it out loud. Considering he actually hasn’t worked out in a while and he can already feel his muscles pulling. Instead he mirrors Derek’s movements.

“When do we get into the ring?”

“Never,” Derek grunts.

“What, why?” Stiles sputters, more so because he’s just seen Derek bend down to touch his toes and holy was _that_ the definition of a fine ass. Who cares about Rachael’s ass anymore.

“Machines only,” Derek answers standing back up and stretching his arms over his head – which just makes his wife beater rise up a little to showcase those rock hard abs.

“If you’re going to be a spoil sport you should have just let me leave,” Stiles groans, “Besides I figured you’d want to punch me around a little in the ring.”

Derek grins at that, the thought of getting to punch Stiles and it being totally legitimate. “I get a stipend of the money you pay the centre,” Derek shrugs by way of explanation in why he’s letting Stiles stay. He walks towards the treadmills. “Business is business.”

“I don’t even know what I pay the centre,” Stiles notes as he follows Derek, getting on to his own treadmill, setting it to the slowest pace possible.

Derek turns his head raising an eyebrow at Stiles.

“My manager handles it,” Stiles confesses.

“Right, manager,” Derek snorts.

“He also happens to be my best friend and step brother,” Stiles retorts. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain that, but the way Derek snorts at the word manager. As if Stiles thinks he’s better than everyone else.

As they start their run, Derek makes it look like a stroll in the park whereas Stiles is already struggling. He used to go to the gym, a few years ago, but he gradually stopped going the busier he became, the more he started drinking and going out, spending longer nights out, sleeping longer in the mornings. Stiles is sweating buckets by the end of their twenty minute run, while Derek looks unaffected only a sheen of sweat covering his body.

“I’m not some kind of douche celebrity you know,” Stiles calls after Derek as he moves onto the next machine, bench weights. Throughout their run, Stiles tried to make small talk with Derek, only half wheezing at trying to multi-task.

“Could have fooled me.”

“You been reading up on me then?”

“After you traumatised my daughter, you’re damn right I did,” Derek turns on his heels causing Stiles to halt his walking or walk straight into Derek’s chest. His voice is dripping anger, bringing flashbacks from that evening Derek barged in on Stiles when he was half conscious, hooked up to a bunch of machines.

“I hardly think she was traumatised,” Stiles rolls his eyes – and okay maybe that was the wrong thing to do because Derek’s eyes harden, visibly clenching his jaw. In Stiles’ defence, he knew Maisie wasn’t traumatised.

“Now you know my daughter better than I do?”

“Of course not. Kids just bounce back fast.”

He lies down on the bench, Derek putting weights on the bar ready to spot Stiles. Thankfully, Derek doesn’t pile on the weights in hope that Stiles won’t be able to lift it and end up killing himself. Probably only because it would be bad for business, not because Derek actually cares.

Stiles probably should have thought it through before he chose ‘One Hale of a Workout’ for his activity because he’s not exactly renowned for keeping his mouth shut. His last blunder he remembers outside of the Lodge was when he offended Lydia about sleeping with him.

He wants to desperately tell Derek that his daughter is in fact, _not_ traumatised, that she’s doing well and too smart for her own good. Except he can’t tell Derek that, because then that would admit that Maisie is lying to her dad about being on the Green Team, and she’s instead sneaking into the Lodge. Not only that, but hanging out with two grown men, playing board games and eating candy. That would probably not bode well, for anyone involved.

By the end of their workout Stiles is utterly exhausted, his legs ache, his body aches, muscles he doesn’t even know he has aches. He uses the Hale embossed towel to wipe away all the sweat he could get to before he goes back to the locker room to shower.

“So am I invited back on Monday?” Stiles asks putting on his best puppy dog eyes. His father always used to say his puppy dog eyes never worked because there was always mischief behind them.

“Business is business,” Derek reminds him.

“Right.”

Stiles is out of the shower and dressed back in his own clothes. He leaves his shoes in his locker and brings his workout clothes with him to wash back at the lodge. He’s waiting for Boyd and Erica in the lobby when he spots a vending machine. He thinks he’s on his own, Rachael nowhere in sight, so he doesn’t stop himself when he freaks out, verbally.

“No way! Gobstoppers!” his nose is pressed up against the glass of the vending machine, looking at the rectangle purple box that reads ‘Chewy Gobstoppers.’ Stiles doesn’t hesitate for a minute to grab his wallet and feed the dollar bill into the machine, pressing the right buttons, watching as the spiral spins until his pack of candy falls down.

He pops one into his mouth starting to suck it, when he turns around and almost chokes. Derek is standing there with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. Those stupid fucking eyebrows.

“You just worked out, and you buy that sugary crap.”

Stiles bites down on his candy, chewing and swallowing it before he answers. “You own a gym and put a vending machine in it and you question me? Besides I like sour candies.”

“They’re not that sour. It’s a running joke here, whenever someone gives in and buys something from the vending machine, on their next workout they have to do an extra circuit.”

“What? No, that’s not fair I didn’t know the rules!”

Derek shrugs smirking, “Not my problem, I’ll have Rachael make a note of your extra circuit for Monday. Looks like your ride is here.” He walks away, disappearing through some door.

Whatever, Stiles shrugs popping two Gobstoppers in his mouth just to spite Derek. It would totally be worth the extra workout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDEK, I have a thing with all these board games I used to play.   
> Awwe yeah, finally some Derek.   
> Also, I know jackshit about MMA fighting (and they don't normally wear helmets while fighting, I believe, but Derek's too pretty so safety first). I also don't know much about gyms because, well I'm lazy.
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr or on here!
> 
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

It isn’t worth the extra workout. Stiles gasps as Derek constantly pushes the speed up button on the treadmill making Stiles run faster and faster. Stiles just knows he’s going to trip, fall and fly straight out of the window if Derek makes him go any faster.

“I hate you so much right now,” Stiles groans when Derek finally stops the treadmill pushing Stiles on to the next workout machine.

“No pain, no gain.”

And really? The most cliché thing to say in the world to Stiles, that doesn’t help.

Needless to say, once Stiles is showered and back in his everyday clothes and walking by the vending machine he just can’t resist those Gobstoppers. He pops in another dollar bill and thinks the extra workout will be worth it, despite what he’s just endured. It soon becomes a vicious cycle.

**

“So you spend your days with Derek and your afternoons with Maisie and neither of them know?” Jackson asks while they’re waiting for Maisie to show up.

“Precisely.”

“You don’t think that’s going to cause problems if you slip up?”

“Relax Jackson, I won’t mess up. We’ll still get our candy.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jackson mutters although yes, he still looks forward to the candy Maisie brings.

“If I mentioned it to Maisie she might say something to Derek. If I told Derek, well I’d probably never return and be thrown into same ravine to be feasted upon by the wolves.”

“There aren’t any wolves in Northern California.”

“So not that point asshat.”

This time, Maisie brings ‘Sorry’ the board game and a large bag of sour gummy worms. She’s ominously quiet, not at all like her usual self as she sets up the board game, throwing the bag of gummy worms at Stiles.

“What’s wrong Maisie?”

“Nothing,” she sighs. Well isn’t that the universal sign that something is actually wrong.

“Maisie,” Stiles prods.

“It’s just, kids are so mean. They picked on me because I corrected the teacher about Thanksgiving and when the teacher told me off, they all started laughing and pointing,” she quietly sobs to herself.

“Those assholes,” Jackson mutters and they can tell it’s bad when Maisie doesn’t even point out that he has to put money in the swear jar.

It takes Stiles a minute to realise that Maisie is curling into Stiles snuggling her face into his side as she quietly sobs. Stiles on instinct puts his arms around Maisie so that he’s cradling her just letting her sob. Jackson comes around to sit on the other side of Maisie and pats her head.

“If it helps any, I’d kick their ass if I could get out of here,” Jackson tries to reassure.

Maisie laughs as she sniffles the snot away. “That won’t solve anything.”

“Maisie, you should never feel bad about being smart. You shouldn’t get in trouble for correcting the teacher if you did it nicely, and no kid should ever make fun of you.”

“That doesn’t mean they won’t,” she wails.

“That’s true,” Stiles hums in agreement. “For what it’s worth, one of my best friends, Lydia Martin is the smartest most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. If someone makes fun of her, she flips her hair and walks away because people like that don’t deserve her attention. Just like those kids don’t deserve your attention if they’re going to be cruel.”

“Really?” Maisie asks peeking up from where her face is buried in Stiles’ shirt to look at him.

Stiles feels a pang of sadness at mentioning Lydia. Lydia _is_ the smartest woman he knows, hell she’s the smartest person he knows. Lydia also knows when to walk away from a situation when it’s going to cause problems, never putting up with bullshit. Which is what happened when she walked away from him when he insulted her, he only hopes that when he gets out of here he can make amends with her. Maisie made him see that, and she didn’t even realise.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “She now owns her own company, she loves what she’s doing _and_ she makes a lot of money. Who doesn’t want to make a lot of money? She doesn’t take any crap from anyone.”

“She’s just like Scout.”

“What are you doing reading To Kill a Mockingbird?”

“Dad said I wouldn’t understand it, I understood some if it though. He reads some to me most nights.”

“Scout does what she wants, just like you,” Stiles nudges Maisie.

“You can be Jem. Jackson is Dill and my dad is Boo.”

Stiles snorts picturing Derek as Boo Radley, because Derek sure as hell is mysterious and seems to be a recluse. He’s probably just misunderstood or only opens up to those closest to him. And Jackson as Dill, well yeah Stiles can see many similarities there. With the lack of family love and being a bit of a shit, but then again Stiles is a bit of a little shit.

“So moral of the story Maisie Hale, never be ashamed of being smart or wanting to learn. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good now let’s play some Sorry!”

They rearrange themselves around the board on the bed again, finishing setting up the pieces on the board. Stiles has snot and slobber on his sweater from where Maisie was crying so he unzips it and throws it on the ground, to put in the wash with the rest of the dirty clothes. Having Maisie’s snot and drool isn’t so bad as long as she feels better by the end of it. She ends up winning the game, with a huge smile on her face and it’s the most adorable thing that Jackson doesn’t even end up flipping the board again because he lost.

Stiles thinks that if Dr Deaton and the rest of the staff knew that all Jackson needed in his life was a little kid to bother the crap out of him and then he’d actually become bearable to be around they would have done it the minute Jackson was thrown in this place. Same with Stiles, if he’s being honest with himself, getting to see Maisie is what makes his days more bearable.

When they’re done for the afternoon and getting Maisie out the window both men reassure Maisie that she shouldn’t be ashamed of her smartness and Jackson, once again promising threats to those kids making fun of her. She giggles, waving and running off back home in a much better mood than she had been in when she got here.

When she gets home, Derek’s none the wiser of what even happened at school or the fit of tears she was in earlier. Instead she looks happy, helping her dad make grilled cheese and salad for dinner.

**

“You two alright?” Erica asks leaning her hip against the dining table where Stiles and Jackson are sitting eating their dinner.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Jackson sneers rolling his eyes, he shoves the rest of the dinner roll into his mouth.

“I could have sworn I heard crying from your room earlier,” Erica shrugs but she looks concerned. “I didn’t want to interrupt though.”

Stiles smashes his elbow into Jackson’s ribs which causes Jackson to choke on his dinner roll. There’s no way they can let Erica know that it was Maisie who was crying, if she knew there would be serious consequences. Stiles hands Jackson his glass of soda and pats him on the back.

“We were role-playing,” Stiles says.

“Role playing?” Erica asks with a smirk, raising her eyebrows.

“Putting on a play,” Stiles corrects himself. “We were thinking about joining the drama group here. Jackson was playing a little girl.”

Now it’s Jackson’s turn to smash his elbow into Stiles almost making him fall off his chair. Stiles just smiles at Jackson then at Erica, who looks sceptical.

“Got a problem with that?” Jackson mutters cramming more food into his mouth so he doesn’t have to speak.

“Not at all. Forget I asked,” Erica sniggers before she saunters off back to the table full of the staff.

“I’m going to smother you in your sleep Stilinski,” Jackson threatens getting up from the table and dropping his used plates and cutlery in the dirty dishes area.

Stiles laughs as Jackson storms out of the dining room. Jackson won’t smother Stiles in his sleep and they both know it, because then Jackson would be in this place on his own and as much as Jackson doesn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t survive on his own like he used to.

 

**

“I so regret not keeping up with the gym,” Stiles wheezes as he’s sitting in some contraption that looks more like a spaceship than an exercise machine. He’s pushing weights with his legs, and he can feel his lets starting to quiver more by the minute. He’d _finally_ gotten used to running on the treadmill and actually started enjoying it, so naturally Derek moves on to a new torturous machine.

“Kind of hard to do from the bottom of a glass.”

“Ouch,” Stiles whispers, he stops working out to look at Derek. “I suppose I deserved that though.”

“No, sorry,” Derek shakes his head running his hand over his beard. “I shouldn’t have said that, it was rude.”

“Your statement wasn’t unfounded though,” Stiles sighs. “But it’s a work in progress right? I owe you an explanation I guess, considering what happened…” he trails off.

Derek takes a seat on the machine beside Stiles so they’re face each other, workout forgotten. He looks over Stiles, from his head to his toes. It gives Stiles a shiver, as if he’s being checked out, but it feels more like that, like Derek is trying to read everything he can from Stiles without any words.

“Why’d you start drinking?” Derek asks like it’s the simplest question in the world, which it’s not.

Stiles snorts wiping the sweat off his face before he answers. “I wish I could tell you. It just started you know? One drink leads to another, and to another, night after night. Being alone can put you in the company of your own worst enemy, or so Dr Deaton says.”

“You felt alone?” Derek looks so genuine, not like he’s judging Stiles or thinks Stiles is an idiot, like he did the second time they came face-to-face at the Lodge.

“Yeah but I wasn’t. I mean I had my friends, my dad, my co-workers but you just get that feeling of being alone anyway.”

Derek nods his head like he understands and Stiles doesn’t know whether he’s just nodding his head pretending to understand, or maybe he’s nodding his head because he understands almost too well what Stiles means.

“Then going out and drinking, it just freed me, for a little while anyway. Then it spiralled out of control, as I’m sure you can imagine. I mean I never believed that alcoholism could run in a family, but I guess it does. Who’d have thunk it?”

“Who else was an alcoholic?”

“My dad, but he’s better now. It never got as bad as mine did I guess, which I should be thankful for because at the end of the day he’s my dad and all I had, and a great dad.”

Stiles blows air out of his mouth as he looks the opposite direction of Derek trying to clear his thoughts and emotions before he becomes an emotional wreck in front of Derek, in a gym, where he should be all macho and manly. The last thing he needs is so bawl his eyes out like the first time he opened up to Dr Deaton.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It was none of my business,” Derek says.

“Don’t be,” Stiles reassures Derek. “Facing your own demons and all that, right? The more I talk about it, the less it’ll affect me, maybe.”

Derek nods his head and stands up, so Stiles continues his workout. They finish the workout in silence; thankfully it’s not awkward but just reassuring. Having something else to focus on beside their heavy conversation, well Stiles’ heavy conversation, Derek was just all ears.

**

The next time Stiles goes to the gym; he finds a box of Gobstoppers in his locker. A box he knows for certain, he did not put there, so he thinks it’s a fluke. Except the day after that, and the day after that, he always finds a new box of Gobstoppers in there. He doesn’t say anything but smiles and puts it in his bag and no one else mentions it. His extra circuits also happen to vanish.

**

“What are you doing?” Maisie asks one afternoon. She plops down multiple little packets of Warheads on the bed beside Stiles.

“Writing some letters,” Stiles answers. He’s sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard. He’s got a piece of paper on top of an old magazine, scribbling away. Jackson is on his side of the room, playing some game on his iPod. Maisie hands him some candy as well.

“To Santa?” she jokes.

“To my dad and my friends.”

“You look like you got a lot to say.”

“I do,” Stiles chuckles. “I have a lot of apologising to do. I figured I might as well start with a letter since I can’t see them right now.”

“They’ll forgive you,” Maisie nods her head.

Stiles sighs because he knows it’s not that easy. He knows that Maisie is being naïve, but that’s what happens when you’re a kid. He has a lot to apologise for. He has to apologise to his dad, for pushing him away and cutting off contact with him. He has to apologise to Scott for being the worst best friend/step brother when all Scott wanted was the best for Stiles. He has to apologise to Allison for not being appreciative of all she’s done, starting from the day that she started dating Scott and he and Scott stopped being the outsiders in high school. He also has to apologise to Lydia for being a complete asshole and thank her for all she’s done with his PR until she couldn’t save him anymore.

“You’re Stellar Stiles, you can do anything,” Maisie repeats not for the hundredth time since they’ve met.

Stiles laughs at that because he’s gotten so used to Maisie saying that, that he’s grown accustomed to it. Except he’s not Stellar Stiles anymore. “Haven’t been that guy for quite a while Maisie.”

“Maybe not on TV but you can still be that guy.”

That afternoon they don’t play any games, instead Jackson sticks to himself listening to his music. Stiles writes his letters and Maisie sits beside Stiles, as they eat the candies until their tongues are sore from all the sour candies. Maisie gets her books out of her bag and works on some of her homework, the three of them sitting in comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/) or here!


	10. Chapter 10

It’s the middle of December and Stiles just barely makes it into the lobby of the gym, Erica and Boyd speeding away in the van to go on their date, when Derek stops him. Derek’s hand reaches out, his hand on Stiles’ chest stopping Stiles from walking into the locker room to change into his gym clothes.

“What do you say we skip the workout?”

“Is this because of the Gobstoppers?” Stiles screeches backing away from Derek. “Because they were in my locker every time I came in, I didn’t steal them I swear! I’ll give you the money if you want.”

“Relax Stiles,” Derek grunts. “I put them in there.” Derek looks away, staring at the wall behind Stiles, a bit sheepish having just admitted that he was the one giving Stiles his stupid Gobstoppers. At least he wasn’t blushing like an idiot.

“You did?” Stiles says in awe, finally getting confirmation. He figured it was from Derek but he couldn’t be sure, it’s not like he thought it was from the candy fairies.

“There’s a bar, a juice bar,” Derek corrects when Stiles’ eyes widen, “a few buildings over. Want to go?”

“Is this a trick question? Because if you’re trying to get me to fall for your prank just so I have to do an extra circuit, no siree.”

Derek huffs taking Stiles by the shoulder spins him around and leads him out the door. They turn right and walk the few buildings over to the Juice Bar. There’s only a few people milling about, most people opting for hot drinks now that it’s December and nearing Christmas. Derek doesn’t drink coffee, not very often anyway and all those fancy drinks have way too much sugar and calories, instead he prefers a fresh smoothie.

“Your usual Fat Burner smoothie, Derek?” the man behind the counter asks when Derek opens the door and walks in.

Stiles snorts, trying to cover it up when Derek shoots him a look.

“I don’t think there’s even any fat on your body to burn,” Stiles points out.

Derek raises his eyebrow at Stiles like he _knows_ that Stiles is checking him out. Which Stiles does not, absolutely not. It’s just that Stiles has seen Derek in gym shorts and a wife beater consistently for the past few months now and anyone with eyes is bound to notice those muscles.

“Mango, banana, raspberry, strawberry, kiwi and vanilla smoothie please,” Stiles says after he walks away from Derek’s knowing look, pretending like he needs to stand closer to the menu board to read the menu – and not because he’s trying to distance himself from Derek.

The man nods his head and starts to work on their smoothie. After they get them, Derek leads the way to the back of the juice bar to a table by a window. Not that there’s much to look at outside, but it’s nice to be able to see the people walking by.

“Dude that drink is like way too green, almost neon. Do I even want to know what’s in it? Are you going to start glowing?”

“Don’t knock my drink and I won’t knock yours.”

“Touché,” Stiles laughs.

They’re halfway through their smoothies, watching the snow falling and settling onto the ground before Derek mentions that they should get some food. He orders a Smokey ham Swiss sandwich for himself and Stiles goes for a classic chicken club sandwich.

“Sooo, did you always want to own your own gym?”

“No,” Derek answers after he swallows a bite of his sandwich.

“What’d you do before?”

“I was a fighter,” Stiles doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. “I used to fight, underground fighting,” Derek says looking out the window not making eye contact.

“Illegal fighting,” Stiles whistles. “That doesn’t seem very fatherly.”

“Hence why I opened the gym,” Derek huffs. “After Maisie came I knew I couldn’t do that anymore.”

“How the hell did you end up fighting underground? Also explains why you’re a beast in the ring, I’m even more glad you wouldn’t let me box that first time I came here.”

“It was after my…my, parents and sister died in a car crash. A drunk driver,” Derek murmurs looking down at his sandwich. Stiles’ heart stops for a beat at hearing that, because that was _not_ what he was expecting to hear. Not to mention the fact that he’d crashed his car into a guard rail and it could have been so much worse than that. No wonder Derek wanted to beat the shit out of him when he found out Maisie found Stiles passed out drunk. Suddenly Stiles wouldn’t blame Derek for wanting to punch him in the face.

“After that it was just me and my sister Laura, the one you met. We moved away, needed money. I just started getting into fights with random people just for the hell of it before someone introduced me to underground fighting. Laura didn’t approve, but I was getting good money out of it, travelling around the country.”

“Then you had Maisie,” Stiles supplies.

“Then I had Maisie,” Derek smiles snapping out of his sad daze at the mention of his parents and sister. “And my whole world changed, there was no way I was going to raise her in a life like that, travelling, illegal fighting.”

“And her mom?” Stiles hedges.  

“Jennifer,” Derek sighs. “I met her when I was fighting; she liked me because I won most of my fights and got good money. She travelled with me, I’d fight, go out partying, fuck then do it all again the next night. Then she got pregnant.”

“Where is she now?”

“We never would have worked. She liked the party life, the underground fighting life too much, after she had the baby she moved on to the next up and coming fighter when I said I was out, I wanted the baby.”

“She’s not in Maisie’s life?”

“Not since the day she was born. I don’t hate Jennifer for not being with me, it wasn’t love, and it never was. I hate her for not wanting to be a part of Maisie’s life. For not wanting to see that beautiful little girl grow up into the smart, intelligent witty person she is.”

“So you settled down, got a legit job and a stable house.”

“It’s not just the people in rehab that are messed up,” Derek smiles, a rueful smile as he finishes off his sandwich.

Stiles nods his head and finishes his sandwich as well. He never in a million years expected to hear those words out of Derek’s mouth, that he had a shitty life, he had his own problems. He also never expected for Derek to actually open up to Stiles, because why would he? But here he was, opening up and it was nice. If someone like Derek can lose not just one parent, but both _and_ a sibling, and still not resort to drugs or alcohol – than there was hope for people like Stiles.

By the end of their hour and a half, Stiles was back in the Lodge van, not having any time for a workout but Stiles didn’t mind that too much.

**

Stiles had given Isaac the letters he wrote to his friends and dad quite a while ago now and he’s yet to hear anything back, from any of them. He doesn’t expect to have a happy reunion, while everyone forgets all their problems but he at least expected to hear _something_. He figured Scott would be the one to reach out, but maybe all of them having time away from Stiles allowed them to move on with their own lives.

Stiles isn’t wallowing in self-pity when Maisie gets there, well maybe he is, just a tad. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold; she’s wearing a crochet hat that looks like an owl with ears on the top, a scarf and a black jacket.

“You look cold,” Jackson says when he sets Maisie down on her feet.

She glares at him. “You think? It’s December! Why don’t you try going out there in the forest.” She unwraps the scarf around her neck and takes off her jacket but leaves the adorable hat on.

“I wish we could at least offer you some hot chocolate,” Stiles sighs. “But it might bring suspicion.”

“That’s okay,” Maisie shrugs.

This time she has red sour belt candies and the game she brought this time is Battleship. Jackson pouts saying that it’s a two player game which means he knows he’ll be the one that gets left out.

“You and Stiles can be on the same team.”

“Yeah Jackson, you might actually have a shot at winning this time,” Stiles snarks.

Not surprisingly, Stiles and Jackson end up winning the round of Battleship. Maisie is a good sport about it, congratulating them unlike Jackson who’s a sore loser.

Because the game ends quickly and Maisie doesn’t want to play another round (because what she says still goes) Maisie demands that Jackson teach her how to play lacrosse. He points out that he doesn’t have any Crosse sticks or a ball so it’s not going to work. Maisie isn’t having any of it; she folds her arms and gives Jackson her patented Maisie Hale look until he gives in.

They don’t actually have any of the proper gear but they have a little basket which Jackson pretends is the lacrosse stick and gives it to Maisie, he takes another one for himself. They get a pair of clean socks and ball them up so that they form somewhat the shape of the ball. Jackson instructs that the space between Stiles’ bed and the wall will be the goal area and Jackson will throw the ball and Maisie has to try and catch it and score a goal.

It takes her a few tries to catch the makeshift ball, Jackson either throwing the ball too high or too far to one side. Maisie is running around in circles, holding the basket out in front of her running around the room. She finally catches the ball and almost drops the basket from excitement before Jackson is hustling her towards Stiles’ and the pretend goal net to try and score.

She pulls the basket back and flings the ball out of the basket at Stiles it hits him right square in the chest. Maisie pouts because she didn’t get to score a goal.

“Again!” she demands.

Jackson gives Stiles the death glare as if telling him to _not_ catch the ball so that Maisie can score. This time, Jackson throws the ball towards Maisie so that she catches it easily and runs towards Stiles. She flings the sock again, and Stiles jumps to the side, pretending to try and catch the sock but instead misses and lands right on the bed. The sock goes into the goal area and Maisie cheers, Jackson bringing her into a hug and spins her around.

“I scored! Did you see that Jackson, I scored. I beat Stiles.”

“Lucky shot,” Stiles pouts even though they know he’s joking.

They continue to play, even though the room is too small for an actual lacrosse pitch and they don’t even have the right equipment. This time Stiles and Maisie are on the same team and Jackson is in the net. Stiles tosses Maisie the ball and they run towards Jackson who’s trying to block the goal. Stiles tackles Jackson to the side so that they land on the bed and roll off onto the ground, and Maisie scores again.

“Who knew sports could be so fun!” Maisie beams, this time her cheeks red from exhaustion and not the weather. “No wonder you like lacrosse Jackson.”

“I haven’t played in a while,” Jackson mumbles. He hasn’t played since he got kicked off his team for taking drugs.

“Well you’re still good at it,” she pats Jackson’s arm. “You too Stiles,” she says not wanting to leave him out.

Stiles is with Maisie, he can’t even remember the last time he played any sports. Drinking games didn’t count.

**

After dinner, Jackson and Stiles are in the entertainment room tossing a ball back and forth when Dr Mahealani and Isaac come in. They’re carrying a tray of little containers, interrupting the whole room.

“Random drug test everybody, line up,” Dr Mahealani announces.

“What why?” Jackson asks catching the ball from Stiles, and then drops it on the ground scowling.

“Part of the deal, you’ve been through this drill,” Isaac answers.

Everyone in the room lines up and are told one-by-one they have to go to the bathroom and piss in the jar while being watched by one of the members of staff. Boyd is in charge of watching the men while Erica is in charge of watching the woman.

Once Jackson is back out he hands the jar to Dr Mahealani muttering that this was stupid. Dr Mahealani points out that if he hasn’t somehow smuggled drugs in then he has nothing to worry about.

It’s Stiles’ turn to pee in the jar and he’s in the bathroom with the door wide open, Boyd standing there. He tries to pee in the jar but can’t, even after drinking a glass of water.

“Okay, this is just creepy man,” Stiles points out. “I can’t pee with an audience!”

“Haven’t you ever used a urinal?” Boyd draws.

“Well yes, I am a man. It’s just urinal etiquette doesn’t seem to apply here! You’re staring right at my junk and while I am so not ashamed it’s still weird.”

“Good thing you’re not my type Stilinski, now hurry it up otherwise we’re here all night.”

Stiles finally manages to pee in the jar, overcoming his nerves and hands the jar back to Boyd. It’s easily the creepiest thing Stiles has had to do since being here but he has nothing to hide so it doesn’t matter.

Fortunately no one in the Lodge had smuggled in any drugs or taken any, everyone is clear and it’s a sigh of relief for everyone. No throwing peoples rooms apart (before they find Stiles’ and Jackson’s candy stash) and the Lodge still keeps its reputation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, no evil Kate in this one & no overly-angsty Derek. Thought I might as well switch it up a little.  
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/) or here! :)


	11. Chapter 11

“A lacrosse stick?” Derek asks himself looking at the first thing on Maisie’s Christmas list. Once again he’s left the shopping until the last minute. The shops are going to be packed, everyone shoving everyone out of the way to get the last toy or the last turkey. He really wishes he could just pawn the list off to Laura and hand her his credit card, but he knows that’s a dangerous game.

“What?” Laura asks coming into the office area where Derek keeps his laptop.

“Maisie, she wants a lacrosse stick?” he asks himself yet again, thinking maybe he needs to get his eyes checked in his old age. Not that he’s even _that_ old, but it would explain what he’s seeing on the list.

“I’m sorry, what? Our Maisie Hale wants a lacrosse stick? Has she bumped her head?” Laura plops down on the old ratty arm chair that used to be their parents that Derek refuses to get rid of despite it being lumpy and uncomfortable. Laura would keep it all the same anyway.

“I’ve never even seen her pick up a ball.”

“Well at least you have someone to throw a ball around with right?” Laura says trying to find the bright side to Maisie’s weird Christmas request. “Does that mean I need to take back her 3D puzzle ship?”

Derek shakes his head, “No she’ll love it.” He gets up from the chair and folds the list putting it in his back pocket. “You good making dinner tonight so I can go out and get some shopping done?”

“You’re lucky I don’t have a man in my life,” Laura sniffs inspecting her nails. “Of course it’s okay,” she rolls her eyes.

Derek still wonders what in the hell is going on to make Maisie want a lacrosse stick. He’s going to have to make a detour to the sports good store to find a stick that’s small enough for her, a ball and maybe a stick for himself just in case she wants to play with him. He’s not even positive that her school has a lacrosse team, not in elementary school anyway.

Derek maybe goes overboard at the sports good store buying the sticks, the ball, protective gear and anything else lacrosse related he can get his hands on. He really shouldn’t have spent that amount of money on something that’s probably only going to hold Maisie’s interest for a couple of months. But Derek will take the opportunity to play some sports with his daughter.

That’s _one_ thing that Derek understands, not about history or science or math but sports. That’s his area of expertise.

**

“I didn’t bring any games today,” Maisie announces. “Also now that I’m on school break I won’t get to come back until I go back to school.”

“Aw well I’m glad you’re here today at least,” Stiles says and Jackson agrees.

Maisie points for the two men to sit down and they both sit down side-by-side looking like they’re school boys who have gotten in trouble. First, she takes out two packages of Sour Patch Kids and throws one to each of them. Then she rummages around in her bag and produces two handmade books.

“These are your Christmas presents,” she says holding them up.

“Maisie, you didn’t have to! We didn’t get you anything,” Stiles sputters.

“It’s not like we really get to leave here,” Jackson nods his head.

“You don’t give presents to get presents.”

“You’re a kid, you’re supposed to want presents,” Stiles points out.

“My dad and Aunt Laura take me to volunteer at different places every few months, like a homeless shelter,” Maisie shrugs. “They taught me that.”

She hands Jackson his first and sits down in-between Jackson and Stiles. He looks at the cover and then starts to flip through; there are hand drawn pictures on the left hand side with words on the right hand page. It’s a story, featuring Jackson. It’s about Jackson and how he used to play lacrosse, but then he got sick and couldn’t play anymore, he had to go away, get better and then eventually he got to play again and he was as happy as could be.

“Maisie, I don’t play lacrosse anymore,” Jackson whispers quietly once he closes the book and flips it back over to look at the cover. It even reads, by Maisie Hale.

“I know that,” Maisie says, “I googled you remember? But that doesn’t mean you can’t play again in the future, when you leave here.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“But I do, we had a lot of fun playing last week! I think you even cracked a smile,” she jokes. “You can play again if you want in the future, you know, you don’t have to be sad.”

“Thanks Maisie.”

Maisie then hands Stiles his book and waits for him to read it. He flips through it just like Jackson, except this time it’s about Stiles having his own TV show, and runs into some trouble and not talking to his friends anymore. He has to go away to get better, and he meets a little girl and they soon become best friends. Eventually he becomes better and he returns to the Stellar Stiles that he used to be.

“You drew this?” Stiles asks in awe.

“Yup. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Stiles beams. “Though I think you maybe put a little too much faith in me.”

Maisie shakes her head. “No I didn’t. You two are my best friends,” she admits, “I may not have a lot of friends at school but you guys make me happy. So I know you two can get better.”

Stiles puts his arm around Maisie’s shoulder bringing her into an embrace saying his thanks again for the book. He really does love it, definitely the coolest thing he’s ever got from someone who is such a fan of Stellar Stiles.

“I think I get should get your autograph before you become a famous author and I never get it,” Stiles says getting up and digging around for a marker. He hands the marker to a beaming Maisie as she signs the front of the book and Jackson hands his over as well so that she signs them both.

“Don’t worry; I won’t forget about you two when I’m famous.”

“Gee thanks,” Jackson quips.

**

It’s Christmas Eve and the Lodge is decorated in tinsel, streamers, mistletoe and other various Christmas ornaments. There’s even a little bit of snow outside to add to the festive cheer although Stiles isn’t feeling all too cheerful. He misses Christmases back at home, with his dad, Melissa and Scott. Wearing ugly sweaters, drinking eggnog and opening their stockings full of silly gifts at midnight on Christmas Eve.

Something seems to be going right for Stiles though because Isaac knocks on his and Jackson’s door and tells Stiles he has a call.

“Who is it?” Stiles sits up eagerly.

“I’m not your receptionist,” Isaac snorts. The asshole. Stiles still gets up and heads towards the front of the Lodge, to the reception desk and picks up his phone. Thankfully there’s no one else around, others milling about the Lodge.

“Hello?”

“Stiles?”

“Scott! Hey man,” Stiles beams brightening up. He sits down in the receptionist chair leaning on the desk.

“I uh, got your letter. So did your dad, Allison and Lydia.”

“Oh?”

“I, I’m just glad you seem to be doing well,” Scott sighs.

“I’m trying,” Stiles mirrors Scott’s sigh. “Baby steps right?”

“Right.”

“How are you, how’s Allison and Lydia?”

“Allison appreciated your letter, Lydia read it but she didn’t say much else.”

“How’s my dad?” Stiles hedges playing with the cord attached to the telephone trying his hardest but failing not to fidget.

“I’m at the house now; your dad is at work though. He should be back in an hour or so, I can get him to call if you want?”

“Nah, don’t want to interrupt your guys’ Christmas celebrations. Lots of eggnog to drink and everything. Just, just tell him I love him, and Melissa and that I am trying.”

“I will.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Scott asks.

“You got it,” Stiles says. “Thanks for calling Scott, best Christmas gift you guys could give.”

He hangs up the phone but doesn’t get up from the chair. It’s a step in the right direction, the fact that Scott actually decided to call him, even after Stiles treated him like shit. He might not be able to make amends with his dad or Lydia over the phone, but when he gets out of here the first thing he’s going to do is amend all his broken relationships.

Since the patients in the Lodge have all been good lately (yes, even Stiles) and everyone passed their mandatory drug testing everyone gets a supervised visit out of the Lodge, since it is Christmas after all. There’s a festival going in on the city, and anyone that wants to go can go, or stay behind in the Lodge. Stiles and Jackson are at the front of the line to get the hell out of the Lodge, even if only for a few hours.

The patients bundle into multiple Beacon Hills Rehab Lodge vans as the employees drive them into the city. Not before they’re told they have to stay with the group or an employee, _not_ to wander off on their own or risk probation when they get back. It’s like a jail really, with all these instructions, but then again what jail gets supervised visits that aren’t to court?

Jackson abandons Stiles in a matter of two minutes once they’re in the city when he sees the chef he works with on his visits out of the Lodge. Dr Mahealani nods to Jackson saying it’s okay for him to leave. Stiles sulks by himself for a few minutes because he doesn’t really talk to many other people in the Lodge, Stiles and Jackson successfully creating their own little clique of two and no one else ever wants to talk to them.

“Greenberg my man, want to get a hot chocolate?” Stiles asks sidling up to one of the other patients that no one ever really talks to, dude is weird. But Stiles isn’t picky.

“Fuck off Stilinski.”

“Hey Jared,” Stiles tries with the other kid, one even weirder than Greenberg. He’s always puking no matter what, whether he eats something, he gets sick, gets nervous. Again, Stiles isn’t picky.

Jared looks at Stiles and his face turns green like he’s about to be sick, yet again. Stiles hops out of the way because alright, he’s not that desperate to have puke all over him. He zips up his sweater and wanders away; he’s fine being a lone wolf. Totally cool.

“Go away,” Isaac barely looks at Stiles who’s now standing beside the nurse.

Stiles scoffs fidgeting with the strings on his sweater. “I thought one of the rules was to stay near employees of the Lodge. I think you even looked at me when you said it.”

“I didn’t mean stay near me, go find someone else.”

“You know that’s just going to make me stay here. I’ll even buy you a hot chocolate.”

Isaac looks at Stiles up and down and whoa, weird and kind of flattering. It’s been way too long since Stiles has gotten any action. “Not my type, too lanky.” He walks towards a bench and sits down so that he has a clear view of the other patients.

Okay, so, not flattering after all. “Rude. Who said I was even hitting on you anyway. Besides, ethics and all that,” Stiles sniffs but he still sits beside Isaac anyway. There’s not much else he can really do.

Stiles jiggles his leg, kicking at the little bit of snow on the ground as he looks at all the people in the city. He’s far enough off to the side that he can people watch without others seeing him, the last thing he needs is to get recognised and a whole mob of kids chasing after him, and then somehow someone mentions he’s actually in rehab.

His eyes flick to the large Christmas tree that’s decorated in tinsels, bobbles and fake candy canes, dressed up to the nines like in The Grinch. That’s when he sees Derek Hale; in a pair of jeans and a dark leather jacket – much like the first time they met in LA. Once again as if Derek can feel eyes on him, his head turns slightly, towards the obscured bench and stares right at Stiles. It’s a little unnerving and even _more_ unnerving when he starts to walk towards him.

Stiles had expected to see Maisie with him and starts to freak out that if Maisie sees him she’ll say something and give it all away. Then Stiles will be buried under a pile of snow left to suffocate, and he’s positive that Isaac wouldn’t even save him.

“Isaac,” Derek nods clapping him on the shoulder. Isaac nods his head in return. “Stiles,” he says turning to Stiles.

“Derek.”

“How’s it going Isaac?”

“What do you think?” Isaac mutters. “I’m stuck working on Christmas Eve yet again while Boyd and Erica get the night off.”

“You have tomorrow off,” Derek points out. “You’re coming over for dinner aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Isaac sighs getting up. “Watch this miscreant, I’m going to check on the others,” he nods towards Stiles.

Double rude.

“I’m not a miscreant!” Stiles calls after Isaac but Isaac doesn’t even pay him any attention. Derek chuckles and Stiles shoots him daggers.

“I think you’re the very definition of a scoundrel Stiles.”

“And here I thought we were getting along,” Stiles sniffles even as Derek sits beside him.

They watch as other people mill about, the fake ice rink made out of that plastic stuff that you can skate on. People are colliding into each other, falling over, or falling into the walls. It’s almost comedic how no one seems to be able to skate, but then again if they’d used real ice it would probably be easier. There’s kids attempting to play hockey on the street, but their feet slide in the snow and soon they end up just skidding along the snow into each other, hockey forgotten.

“Where are Maisie and Laura?” Stiles eventually asks.

Derek turns his head so he has a side view of Stiles. “Laura’s on a date,” he crinkles his face up at that because who goes on a first date on Christmas Eve? “Maisie is at home with Boyd and Erica; they forced me to come out.”

“Forced,” Stiles snorts. “Boo Radley alright,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you just call me Boo Radley?”

“No, why would I do such a thing,” Stiles smirks looking at Derek before he turns his head back to the crowd. Derek’s cheeks are slightly red, mostly covered by his beard but his ears are red from the cold and it’s adorable, and Stiles shouldn’t find that adorable. People get cold, their face, their nose and ears turn red it’s totally natural.

“I’m spending a few hours here until I can go back home and spend time with my daughter, which is where I’d rather be.”

“Understandable,” Stiles nods. “I’d actually kill to be with my dad and step brother right now.”

“I want to give Maisie a present early, it’s a Christmas Eve tradition we have.”

“We always used to open stockings on Christmas Eve when I was a kid,” Stiles shares. “Santa never filled them; my mom would hang the stocking and put stuff in there from around the middle of December. It would drive be crazy because I’d always poke at it wanting to know what was in there.”

“Somehow I imagine that being a hard feat for you,” Derek chuckles.

“You have no idea.”

“Stay here,” Derek instructs as he gets up giving Stiles his don’t move look.

Stiles nods his head as he watches Derek walking away and he thinks great, the asshole got bored and left him here. Stiles can’t spot where Isaac went, and he doesn’t want to risk getting up to look for another member of staff before they deem he was trying to get away, yet again, and is on probation. That’s not really in the Christmas spirit. Instead he slouches down on the bench and stuffs his sweater strings into his mouth, chewing on it as he glares at all the happy people.

Derek comes back five minutes later with two Styrofoam cups, steaming from the top. He hands one to Stiles and keeps the other for himself, sitting back down on the bench beside Stiles.

“Hope you like hot chocolate.”

“Like? I love,” Stiles beams taking a tentative sip of the hot drink. “Especially since I don’t get any adult eggnog anymore, no fun.”

Derek shoots him a look.

“It was a joke,” Stiles assures him. “Jeez, if I can’t make fun of myself how am I supposed to survive in the big bad world where I’m not sheltered like at the Lodge?”

“No one said it was easy.”

“Thanks Edison,” Stiles mutters into his cup.

“You really like the name calling.”

“That one was a compliment.”

After they finish their drinks, Derek takes the cup from Stiles and throws it in the garbage for him; he looks at his watch before he sits back down beside Stiles.

“If you need to go it’s cool, I’ll find and bug Isaac.”

“I’ve got a little while longer, Erica told me not to step foot in the house before 8.”

“I wouldn’t mess with her,” Stiles laughs. “Are you guys’ good friends, Boyd, Erica and Isaac?”

“They’re like family,” Derek nods.

“Which explains why Isaac is going to yours for dinner tomorrow,” Stiles hedges. Okay he’s totally trying to figure out what’s going on between those two, if anything.

“He doesn’t have much family, his dad was a dick and his brother died in the war. He just broke up with his boyfriend a few months ago, so he didn’t have any plans.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“If you say so,” Derek snorts.

They talk for a little while longer, and the next time Derek looks at his watch it’s ten minutes past 8. He gets up from the bench rubbing his hands together to warm them up, Stiles standing up as well. They walk until they find Isaac standing over by a tree talking to Dr Mahealani.

“I should get going.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Have a good Christmas Stiles,” Derek says, meeting Stiles’ eyes with such earnest it hurts. It’s like Derek knows that Christmas is going to suck for Stiles, because who the hell wants to spend Christmas in rehab away from their family.

“You too,” Stiles nods. “Hope Santa is good to you.”

Derek’s lips tug up into a smile before he puts his hands in his jacket pockets and walk away. Stiles unashamedly watches as Derek walks away, in those gorgeous tight jeans. That is until Isaac comes up to him and slaps in lightly in the back of the head and Stiles comes back to the land of the living and not the land of Derek’s ass.

So maybe Christmas won’t be the best, but he got to spend a few hours with Derek on Christmas Eve – which he never really thought would make his day, but deep down he kind of knew it would – and he got to talk to Scott who seems to be coming around after everything. If only the New Year will continue to bring the good fortunes as well.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apparently have a thing for Christmas/New Years considering I'm not all that festive when it comes to Christmas Songs.  
> Come talk to me on here or [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles isn’t sure what date exactly it was that he and Derek stopped actually working out, but instead spent their time at the juice bar. Boyd or someone from the lodge would drop Stiles off at the gym, and Derek would meet him outside and then they’d walk to the juice bar. Sometimes, if Derek was in a particularly good mood they’d cross the street and eat at the diner.

It’s the New Year and they’re sitting in the diner during the mid-afternoon lull. Stiles orders a burger and fries thrilled to be having something greasy and unhealthy unlike his eating habits at the Lodge. Derek orders a Philly cheese steak and when Stiles points out that it’s unhealthy, Derek threatens that maybe they should continue with their workouts at the gym. That shuts Stiles up pretty quickly.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Stiles asks taking a sip from his glass of Coke.

“In the Navy.”

“Oh is that where-” Stiles cuts himself off midsentence by cramming a handful of fries in his mouth and chews.

“Is that where what?” Derek asks putting down the end of his sandwich.

Shit. Stiles just almost blurted, “ _is what where Maisie gets her love for all things sailor related?”_ Only, Stiles couldn’t actually ask that question because how was he supposed to explain how he even knew such information about Derek’s daughter. Who he’s not supposed to have seen since the incident when he first got here.

Derek waits for Stiles to answer giving him a weird look like he thinks Stiles is insane. Which, probably. Stiles chews his fries giving him time to think of something to say.

“Is that where you get your love for bossing people around the gym,” Stiles blurts. “You’d make a good Admiral.”

“I like structure,” Derek half shrugs. “I like order to things.”

“You sound like my dad,” Stiles cringes because ew, mentioning is father and Derek in the same sentence is just gross. If he’s only comparing their mutual love for structure. “I wouldn’t be any good in the Navy, either would Jackson God he hates taking orders.”

Derek perks up at the name Jackson, because where has he heard that before?

“Jackson?”

“Oh yeah, my roommate in the Lodge, bit of a dickweed but we haven’t killed each other so I guess it’s a friendship.”

Derek nods his head about to ask another question when Stiles just rambles on to something else and the name Jackson is soon forgotten.

“And did you always want to be on TV?” Derek asks waggling his eyebrows.

“God no,” Stiles snorts. “I kinda just fell into it when I was interning and there was no looking back.”

“You hate it?”

“No. I took it for granted I guess.”

Stiles wants to cry when he gets a slice of Oreo cheesecake for desert. It’s surprising really, that he’s not 500 pounds. Maybe he should start working out again, but he enjoys spending time with Derek. And as appetising as it is to see Derek in his gym clothes, and it _is_ very appetising, just getting to know him better is nice too.

**

“What do you say we order pizza for dinner?” Derek asks Maisie later that night when he gets in from work. Maisie is sitting on the ground her homework sprawled out across the coffee table. Laura’s on the couch behind Maisie watching TV.

“Yay!” Maisie squeals.

“Whoa since when do we get unhealthy food on a Monday?” Laura raises her eyebrows turning the volume down on the TV.

Derek shrugs, climbing the stairs to go take a shower.

“Hey I was talking to you little brother,” Laura calls, chasing him up the stairs two at a time. She has no qualms walking into Derek’s bedroom and plopping herself down on his bed. “I thought Friday nights were takeout nights.”

“If you really want to eat something else, you can,” Derek sighs walking into his walk in closet to get a change of clothes.

“What’s up Derek?” Laura asks with her serious voice.

“Nothing. Is it wrong to be in such a good mood and want to get takeout one night?”

“I’d say you’ve gotten laid but you spend your days between work and home, so I know that’s not it. I’ll figure it out baby Hale,” Laura narrows her eyes at Derek like he’s hiding something huge. She pats him on the shoulder and leaves the room so he can shower in peace.

Derek’s not about to blab to his sister that he might, possibly, most likely, have a little, tiny crush on Stiles. Because she would not approve, at all. Derek falling in love or like, it’s not love exactly, with an alcoholic, even a recovering alcoholic – she’d flip her shit. She’d go on about how Derek has Maisie to think about, his own life and not having to constantly be on edge.

Derek can’t fault Laura for that, not really, because she’s the voice of reason when he needs it just as he is for her. They have each other and they rely on each other even when at some points, you really just want to say fuck off and butt out.

But here Derek is, eating at diners most days for lunch instead of his healthy salads or soups talking to someone who’s gone off the bender and trying to fix his life. A man who has no qualms about his lack of health by the amount of unhealthy food he eats, desserts and candies in his mouth, which just makes Derek think dirty thoughts.

He doesn’t want to like this guy, why would he? He just needs to get laid but it’s not like he has much of a social life or a night life, not with a ten year old. He can’t spend the night out at a guy’s house, that’s not fair on Laura or whoever would be looking after Maisie, he can’t go back to a dude’s house, fuck him and then leave that’s just rude and he definitely can’t have a quick fuck in a bathroom stall, he’s not twenty anymore.

Time, that’s all it’s going to take for Derek to forget about Stiles. Eventually he’ll leave rehab, go back to LA and Derek will resume his uncomplicated life of working at the gym and raising Maisie. He has time to think about relationship when Maisie’s older, preferably out of the house. However unrealistic that may be, but Derek’s clinging to that hope.

So, that night he orders a large pizza, chicken wings, garlic bread and he, Maisie and Laura sit in front of the TV watching a documentary that Maisie chose. For dessert they pig out on ice cream. Laura doesn’t stop giving Derek these brief looks like she thinks his body has been invaded by some alien and it’s not really him.

**

“You look like you’re about to puke man,” Stiles says the minute he notices Jackson enter their room. Jackson just had his therapy session with Deaton, which yeah Stiles can see why Jackson may be feeling a little queasy. Dr Deaton will do that to you alright.

“I uh, got some news.”

“Bad news?”

Jackson shrugs as if he’s unsure. “I’m getting out.”

“Of here?” Stiles exclaims clambering off his bed. “That’s not bad news, when?”

“Friday.”

“Hey that’s great,” Stiles claps Jackson on the shoulder. “Isn’t it?” he asks when he sees Jackson sigh and sit on the edge of his own bed.

“Yeah it is, I just - it’s going to be weird being out there again. Back in San Francisco, getting my life back on track.”

“You’ve been in here long enough, if Deaton thinks you’re ready to leave then I’d trust him.”

Jackson groans lying back on his bed, closing his eyes. Stiles doesn’t really think about it too much, what it means when Jackson leaves. He’ll be on his own in this room, on his own in the Lodge and it’s going to suck. He may get a new roommate, and he’ll probably be like how Jackson was when Stiles first got here. Because Stiles doesn’t want a new roommate, he wants Jackson.

Granted, he never thought he’d see the day when he actually wanted Jackson around. But Jackson was his only real friend in this place, and now he has to spend the next few months on his own. He just hopes Maisie will still come around, which means, they have to tell her. She’ll be just as sad to see Jackson go. Playing games just won’t be the same.

“I’d still come visit you, when I got back to LA,” Stiles says that night when he’s in bed. “You may act like you don’t want to see me, especially on your home turf, but you’re not going to get away from me.”

Jackson snorts, Stiles hears the rustling of sheets and then a quiet, “thanks.”

And if the world didn’t implode right there, then Stiles is fucking surprised. When has Jackson ever said thanks and genuinely meant it?

**

The next day, when Maisie comes they don’t play any board games, but she does bring a few large Sour Keys for all three of them. Jackson and Stiles sit her down on the bed, and Jackson explains that he gets to go home by the end of the week, and that he won’t be here anymore after that. Maisie is silent for a few minutes, as Jackson and Stiles stare at her trying to gauge how her reaction is going to be.

She stops sucking on her Sour Key and smiles, her huge, happy smile. “Oh but that’s good news isn’t it? You’re all better!” she jumps up from the bed and hugs Jackson.

Jackson rocks back a little, trying to hold her weight. He eventually gives in, smiling and hugs her just as tightly as she’s hugging him. “Yeah, I’m almost all better.”

“I’ll miss you though,” she whispers in his ear.

If it’s even possible, Jackson’s own smile gets even better.

“Maybe if you ask nicely, Jackson will write to the Lodge that way we can still talk to him,” Stiles says shooting Jackson his ‘you better play along’ look. When Maisie turns her eager eyes on Jackson, so hopeful, well Jackson can’t deny. He agrees to write letters to the Lodge, to Stiles, and that way Maisie can see the letters to.

Maisie asks all about San Francisco and what it’s like to live there and what Jackson wants to do when he gets back. Stiles feel like a bit of a douche, because where Maisie is sad but happy that Jackson is all better, Stiles just doesn’t want to be on his own in this place. He knows he started to rely on Maisie’s regular visits to the Lodge but he never expected to rely on Jackson and his friendship just as much.

**

Derek starts to feel guilty that he and Stiles haven’t been working out, like at all. He feels even more guilty and confused that he _likes_ spending time with Stiles, actually looks forward to it every day. He doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t want to think too deeply into it what it means. But he’s not about to give up on the time he gets to spend with Stiles, almost like he’s become addicted and the irony isn’t lost on him that he’s falling, becoming addicted to an addict.

So he has to come up with a plan, some sort of normality like it was in the beginning when they were just working out, when Stiles was just a member of the gym. They’re sitting in the back of the Juice Bar when Derek brings the subject up.

“We should really start working out again.”

“What, nooooo,” Stiles drawls out, “that’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m getting paid by the Lodge for your membership at the gym and you’re not even using it,” Derek points out with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah but you’re still getting paid _and_ I don’t have to work out, it’s a win-win.”

“As you shove a brownie in your mouth,” Derek retorts with a snort.

“It’s a vegan brownie, it hardly counts.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Derek grabs the rest of Stiles’ brownie away from him, holding it hostage so that Stiles will listen. He only continues when Stiles stops trying to make grabby hands at the brownie. “We work out two times a week, the other three we go to the Juice Bar or the diner.”

Stiles sits there with a pout pretending to think it over, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Or, we could work out three times a week, the other two we go to the Juice Bar,” Derek continues.

“Okay, okay, I take the first deal!” Stiles groans snatching the brownie back from Derek, who has already stolen a chunk for himself. Whatever, life is all about compromises and Stiles can deal with that. Derek, he thinks that maybe it’ll help him tamper down whatever it is he’s feeling, whatever it is he is _not_ going to think about.

**

Thursday is Jackson’s last full day at the Lodge and when Maisie shows up, she has a mini party in her backpack. She even has an assortment of sour candies ranging from Sour Skittles to Sour Belts. She spreads them out on Stiles’ bed and tells them to dig in.

“I made you a going away card at lunch today,” Maisie hands Jackson a folded white piece of paper that’s been decorated and coloured by pencil crayons. It has ‘I’m going to miss you’ on the top and a picture of Jackson and Maisie. They’re both holding lacrosse sticks and there’s Stiles in the background standing in front of the lacrosse net. When Jackson opens the card it reads a little note, ‘I knew you would get better and I’ll never forget you’ with more little doodles all around the card.

Jackson smiles as he looks at the card, and on the back is Maisie’s signature, their joke that when she’s famous for whatever field she chooses to enter, they can see they have an early Maisie piece. Jackson tucks the card into his backpack making sure not to bend it so that he won’t leave it behind. He then scoops Maisie into a big hug and Stiles can’t help but join in making a Maisie sandwich as she giggles.

They eat candy and talk. Maisie retells her tale of trying to play lacrosse with her dad and how she’s managed to trick him and score a few goals by running one way and then dashing to the other side. Jackson hums his appreciation and Stiles laughs, picturing Derek playing with Maisie because he knows without a doubt it would be the cutest thing in the world. If the words Derek and cute could coexist in the same sentence.

When it’s nearing time for Maisie to go home she grows quiet sitting there, not saying much and just staring at the ground. Saying goodbye is never easy, no matter how old you are, if someone is going away on a vacation, or going away for good. It’s even harder for a child. Stiles reminds Maisie that Jackson promises to write them letters when he’s back in San Francisco and Jackson says he won’t forget to do it, he could never forget her or Stiles.

Stiles restrains from snickering the fact that Jackson has just admitted that he likes Stiles. Now is not the time, maybe later. Definitely later. Instead they hug one last time as Maisie stands by the window with her little backpack on, hugging her as tight as Jackson can imagine without squishing her. Then they lower her outside the window, Jackson and Stiles each grabbing hold one of her arms together, for the last time.

She spends a few seconds more at the open window, waving from the outside, tears in her eyes as she says bye to Jackson and that she’ll still see Stiles on Monday. They continue waving to each other until Maisie disappears into the trees.

That night at dinner, everyone asks why Jackson is in such a crappy mood, considering it’s his last dinner at this place before he gets to go home. Jackson just shrugs saying he’s not feeling well and when everyone asks what’s wrong with Stiles, he says he must have caught whatever stomach bug Jackson has. It’s a bald-faced lie, everyone knows it but they don’t press the matter. Instead everyone gets an extra-large slice of cake for dessert and they all hang out in the recreation room throwing a mini party for Jackson, as he and Stiles try and get into the mood.

On Friday, just before lunch Jackson says goodbye to everyone, his bags being carried out to the car by Isaac and Boyd. Stiles even hugs Jackson much to the delight of everyone in the Lodge who whistles and cat calls, both Stiles and Jackson stick their middle fingers up at everyone.

Before Stiles pulls way he whispers. “Don’t forget about those letters or I will hunt you down and smother you in your sleep.”

“I won’t,” Jackson laughs as he slings his backpack over one of his shoulders and waves his final goodbye to the Lodge. He gets to go back out into the big bad world, back to reality where he isn’t sheltered. It’s exciting and daunting all at the same time, but you can’t live at the Lodge.

**

True to Derek’s work, Monday afternoon they’re in the gym warming up to workout instead of going to the diner. Derek’s receptionist Rebecca raises an eyebrow like she’s surprised to see them both in the gym, about to actually work out. He shoots her his best boss glare, telepathically telling her to mind her own business, she does, but not before she laughs and shakes her head.

“Why do you look so down?” Derek asks he’s currently bending over to touch his toes.

And that sight maybe makes Stiles cheer up for a few seconds, until Derek stands back up. That’s when he realises that Derek’s waiting for an answer, and Stiles is just starting. Subtly is not his forte.

Stiles shrugs as he stretches to one side and then to the other. “My roommate left last week. I never thought I’d miss the little fuck but now I have no one to talk to.”

“You have me,” Derek says without meaning to actually say that out loud. That was supposed to stay trapped in his head, not project out of his traitorous mouth.

“I do,” Stiles laughs, “trust me you’ve helped in more ways than you can imagine. Just, you’re not at the Lodge and I don’t really talk to anyone else.”

Stiles bends down to touch his own toes so that he can hide his face, he can’t play off the blush on his cheeks from working out because he’s yet to actually start. Derek really doesn’t know how much he’s helped Stiles, how Stiles looks forward to seeing Derek just as much as he looks forward to seeing Maisie. Who knew that the Hale’s could be good companions? Who knew that Derek could have a kid who’s the complete opposite from her father, where she talks to no end, Derek is the one who listens.

By the end of their workout Stiles is feeling a bit better than when he came in. Maybe working out does more than just keep him healthy, it gives him an hour and a half for his mind to focus on absolutely nothing as he works out, just feeling the burn as he moves from machine to machine.

When he’s finished in the shower and back out in the hallway Derek tosses him a box of Gobstoppers before he heads back out to the van where Boyd and Erica are waiting. Stiles opens the box, tosses a red Gobstopper (his favourite) and tosses it at Derek (he should feel special he didn’t get a purple one, Stiles always eats those ones first because he doesn’t like them). Derek laughs popping it into his mouth and heads to his office while Stiles heads out to the van.

“Your sudden cheeriness is starting to freak me out,” Erica says looking over her shoulder as Stiles buckles his seatbelt.

“Shut up,” Stiles jokes handing Erica a Gobstopper (she gets a purple one) and Boyd refuses one.

“It’s just nice to see you chipper again,” Erica shrugs as she sucks on her candy.

**

When Maisie comes around now after school, she and Stiles don’t play any more board games. It’s no fun with only two people and definitely not any fun without Jackson whining like a baby whenever he loses, which was almost all the time. She does still bring her candies though, it’s hers and Stiles’ little treat.

Instead they go over old National Geographic magazines that Stiles’ finds in the Lodge library because Maisie loves them. She reads out loud to Stiles the articles that she finds interesting, points at the pictures and says how pretty they are, how she’d love to be able to explore. To go on a vacation to some foreign country and see how other people live.

One day, Erica hands Stiles an envelope and he sees that it’s from San Francisco; he doesn’t open it until Maisie shows up later that day. They read over the letter together, Jackson is back home settling in to his new apartment, he’s talked to his parents who he hasn’t spoken to in a long time, he’s reconnecting with old friends. He even tells Maisie that he’s started to play lacrosse again, not professionally but he’ll pick up a stick and toss the ball around with some people. It’s a step in the right direction.

After they finish reading their letters from Jackson, they grab a piece of paper and start to write their own letters. They tell Jackson it’s not fun not playing board games anymore, that Maisie misses the amount of money that was in her swear jar just from Jackson alone. They tell him they’re happy that he’s playing lacrosse again and working hard to not fall back on to old habits.

Stiles tucks Maisie’s letter into his letter and puts it in an envelope. He tells Maisie that he’ll hand it to one of the staff members as soon as dinner starts so that they’ll send it off with tomorrow’s post. Maisie’s happy with that, leaving the rest of the candy behind for Stiles as he lifts her up and out of the window.

It’s not the same without Jackson, but they’ll have their own little traditions now, as they look forward to more letters from Jackson and reading about foreign countries and beautiful places around the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on here or [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	13. Chapter 13

Derek’s compromise to spend some days of the week working out and the other time at the Juice Bar or the diner do absolutely nothing to tamper down those feelings he refuses to acknowledge. He swears that sometimes he sees Stiles checking him out while they’re working out, he at first thought that maybe it was a fluke, all in his head, but when it started happening more and more he knew it was no fluke. He put it down to Stiles is stuck in a rehab centre where he’s not having regular sex, it’s understandable that he would check out Derek.

But the times they spend at the diner, Stiles opens up about any and everything. He tells horror tales of his ex-boyfriends and girlfriends, he opens up about his childhood and stuff he used to do with his mom and dad, and the mischief he used to get up with Scott. He speaks in awe of Lydia, Scott and Allison who Derek learns are his best friends – if they’re still speaking to him. Well Scott is, Derek knows, but Stiles hasn’t spoken to Allison or Lydia.

Derek opens up about his family and how he used to be when he was a kid, about Maisie and how his life changed and he couldn’t imagine a world without Maisie in it. Stiles nods his head in understanding and Derek doesn’t realise just how true those words are to Stiles as well. Derek notices the way Stiles’ eyes are earnest when Derek talks about his past, about Maisie, like he’s _truly_ interested and not just nodding his head along pretending to listen.

It’s a stale mate between the two of them. Derek can’t make a move, it would be wrong, because Stiles is only visiting because he’s at the Lodge who hires Derek’s company to train Stiles and it’s wrong because Stiles is in a vulnerable place, trying to get himself better. Stiles can’t make a move for the same reasons as Derek and because eventually, in a few months he’ll be back in LA trying to get his own life under control.

Instead they ignore their feelings, or whatever it is simmering between the two of them, switching their days between working out and going to the diner. It’s not an ideal situation but neither of them are about to change it before it all goes wrong.

Naturally, everything has to go wrong one day.

 

**

Maisie is reading from a British Warship book - which she found at the local library, one she managed to have not read before – to Stiles one afternoon, while Stiles tries to keep up. That’s the moment that Erica decides to knock on the door and walk in.

“You have another letter from Jackson, you two are like Dear John’s is there something –” she stops when she’s far enough into the room to see what exactly is going on. Maisie is sitting beside Stiles, both leaning against the headboard, Maisie’s finger pointing to a picture. Maisie and Stiles both snap their heads up; their eyes wide open like they’re standing on a train track as a train rapidly approaches.

“What the – Maisie? What the hell is going on?” Erica yells she’s undoubtedly caught the attention of anyone nearby.

“Aunt Erica –” Maisie starts but doesn’t get to finish her sentence when Erica rounds to the side of the bed Maisie is sitting on and grabs her by the arm.

“Not a peep from you Maisie. What the hell is going on here Stiles; you have exactly thirty seconds to explain.”

That’s when Boyd and Isaac decide to come bounding into the room to see all the commotion. Boyd’s eyes immediately land on Maisie and he closes his eyes taking a deep breath. Because of course, Maisie would come back. He should have known better.

“Erica, take Maisie out of here and call Derek,” Boyd instructs.

“Wait, I can explain,” Maisie pleads even as she’s being dragged out of the room.

When Maisie and Erica are out of the room, Isaac loses his shit.

“What the fuck Stilinski?” he yells, “Derek’s kid are you serious?”

Dr Deaton soon enters, and great it’s just one giant party. One giant grab your pitch forks and let’s kill Stiles, because he’s almost positive that’s what’s about to happen.

“Mr Stilinski,” Dr Deaton interrupts Isaac’s rant, “We’re going to need to have a very serious talk right now and I trust you’ll be one hundred per cent honest or this can go very wrong.”

Stiles nods his head dumbly, as Isaac and Boyd stand at the other end of the room while he beings to explain to Deaton. He starts from the beginning, from when Maisie found him in the alleyway which everyone already knows about. But then he explains about the time Maisie started throwing rocks at his window, and he and Jackson found her outside demanding to come in. After the first time, Stiles tells Dr Deaton that he told Maisie not to come back, but she kept coming anyway.

When Deaton asks why he didn’t report it to a member of staff, so that she would stop coming. Stiles’ shrugs, he explains that Maisie made his time in here just that little bit more easy and he knows it was wrong but she was just a bright, little girl who wouldn’t take no for an answer and had so much faith in Stiles when no one else did, not even Stiles.

Dr Deaton opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something when the door swings open yet again, and a fuming Derek stops to stare right at Stiles. If looks could kill alone, Stiles would have dropped dead right at that instant. As a matter of fact he would prefer to be dead right now than have to deal with what’s about to happen because he’s pretty sure he’s about to experience the most painful, gruesome death.

It’s as if Boyd and Isaac think the same thing as Stiles because they both leap towards Derek as if to hold him back but he shrugs them off and walks right past Deaton, who doesn’t try to stop him. So much for Deaton being on Stiles’ side.

“Mr Hale I’d advise you-” and okay maybe Deaton _was_ on Stiles’ side he just had no desire to be pummelled by Derek.

“This is about my daughter,” Derek seethes forgetting about Stiles for a moment, turning on his heels to look at Dr Deaton. At least he doesn’t advance towards the therapist as if he means to hurt him as well. Dr Deaton puts his hands up in the air as if in defeat and when Derek turns back around Deaton nods his head towards Boyd and Isaac signalling that they should intervene if need be.

“Derek I -”

“Shut up,” Derek yells his face inches from Stiles. “All this time, all this fucking time and you’ve been going behind my back. Talking to _my_ daughter and then talking to me, pretending like you know my daughter better than I do. I should have known the moment you said she was fine something was up.”

Derek has Stiles backed up against a wall, millimetres apart but Derek hasn’t actually touched Stiles yet, hasn’t thrown a punch or a hit like Stiles had expected. There’s anger there, oh there’s definite anger, but it’s so much more than that. Derek looks as if he’s been betrayed and that hurts Stiles a lot more than any anger directed at him could cause. He doesn’t know what to say, how to make it all better. He wishes he could just go back in time and have been upfront about everything.  

“I should have your ass thrown in jail where you belong.”

“It’s not like I meant for this to happen,” Stiles whispers because he doesn’t know what to say, what to do. He can’t move otherwise he’ll walk straight into Derek, and that’ll most likely aggravate Derek even more. He can’t look away because his eyes are glued to Derek, he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

“If I ever see your face again anywhere near my daughter I will kill you, I swear to fucking God Stiles I will kill you.”

Boyd and Isaac take the opportunity to each put a hand on Derek’s arm to move him away from Stiles now that it’s escalated to threats, before it escalates towards actual physical harm.

If Stiles were being honest with himself he’d rather the physical harm, he’d rather have Derek punch him square in the jaw so that the physical pain could drown out the twisting and churning of his stomach, at seeing Derek looking absolutely livid.

Derek doesn’t shrug Boyd or Isaac off this time. Instead he looks Stiles’ in the eye one last time, his eyes dropping down to Stiles’ lips and back up before he says, “I wish I never fucking met you. I wish I hadn’t brought Maisie to see you that day in LA and I sure as hell wish I never fucking took you on at the gym. Get your own life in order and stop fucking with everyone else’s.”

With that, Derek lets himself be dragged out of the room. He does after all still have his daughter to tend to.

Stiles slides down on the wall and just sits on the ground, utterly broken. Those words hurt a thousand times more than any punch would have, even from someone as big and strong as Derek. Of all the pain he’s felt since being here, having to open up about his mom, dealing with the hallucinations and detox and having to say goodbye to Jackson, this, this was the worst. He brings his knees up to his chest and rests his head on his knees, hiding his face.

“I have to take care of this, and then we’ll need to talk Mr Stilinski,” Deaton interrupts in a sombre voice before Stiles hears the door click closed. That’s when he lets it all out, crying until his tears stain his pants. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, on the ground in the most uncomfortable position. He doesn’t know whether he’s even missed dinner or if it’s even that late. No one comes to check on him and he makes no move to go find anyone. He wouldn’t have anything to say anyway.

**

“Go to your room,” Derek orders the minute he unlocks and takes the keys out the front door.

“Dad-”

“Maisie. Your room, now,” Derek shuts his eyes, his voice rising, just short of yelling. He takes a few deeps breaths and listens to Maisie scurry up the stairs. She’d been crying the whole time at the Lodge barely able to get a word out, hiccupping and sobbing at the same time. She didn’t stop in the car and she was still quietly snivelling as she ran up the stairs.

Derek wants nothing more than to just take her in his arms and hug her as close as he possibly can. But he needs to clear his head, figure out what he’s going to say to her. Yelling isn’t going to solve anything and just end with everyone in tears. He needs to figure out how to tell Maisie that what she was doing was stupid and irresponsible. He has to explain that Stiles isn’t a part of her life, he never was and he never should be.

“What’s going on?” Laura questions when she hears Derek bang the front door shut. She’s holding a ladle, sauce dripping onto the hardwood floor and Derek doesn’t have it in him to complain that she’s making a mess, doesn’t have it in him to take in the heavenly food scents that would usually make his stomach growl with hunger.

“She’s been lying, this whole time,” Derek sighs.

“Who?”

“Maisie!”

“About what?” Laura frowns.

“The Green Team, what she’s been doing with her time all these months after school,” Derek walks past her and back into the kitchen. He heads straight for the fridge and grabs a bottle of beer, not for the second time that he’s had to deal with a Maisie and Stiles situation and need a beer.

“What the hell are you talking about Derek?” Laura plops the ladle back into the pot, turning the stove down to simmer and forgetting about it as she looks at Derek waiting for an explanation.

“She’s been going to the Lodge, sneaking in to see Stiles.”

“How the hell did she manage that?”

So Derek explains what was half-assed explained to him at the Lodge that she could easily fit through the window. Get to the window through the preserve that lead straight to their house, so it was obvious she’d know the trails and the quickest way to get there.

“I always thought that little shit was trouble,” Laura snaps when Derek’s done his story. “The minute he leered making a comment about me being your old ball and chain or whatever, there was something off about him.”

“He was obviously drunk,” and Derek doesn’t know why he even said that. Like that was an explanation and therefore made it okay. He shouldn’t even be standing up for Stiles, he hates him. Except he doesn’t, but he doesn’t exactly like him at this moment in time right now. It’s all just one big cluster fuck.

“I don’t even know what to do about Maisie,” Derek sighs. “I’ve never grounded her in her life, she’s never needed it. I don’t even know what to _say_ to her, to get through to her that what she was doing was idiotic.”

“Want me to talk to her?” Laura supplies, “at least check on her and make sure she’s okay and have a little talk with her and then you can talk to her tell her everything you need to. You both need to be calm to have this conversation.”

Derek nods his head taking a swig of his beer. Laura points towards the stove telling Derek to take over dinner duty while she goes and talks to Maisie.

Sometimes, Derek doesn’t know what he’d do without Laura. Laura has been a constant mother figure in Maisie’s life, been there for when Derek couldn’t and he knew he’d need Laura in the future when Maisie became a teenager and had her girl troubles and didn’t want to talk to her dad about it.

When dinner was ready, Derek served up two dishes and left them on the table for Laura and Maisie. He opted out of dinner deciding for a shower and to buy himself a little more time before he spoke to Maisie. It would also give Maisie more time to calm down as well. Laura was right; there would be no use if tempers got high.

After dinner the three of them sit in the living room, Maisie in the middle and Derek and Laura on either side of her. Laura there to comfort her if she needed it. It’s a long winded conversation, Derek taking his time to think what he wants to say, speaking in a calm manner. He explains to her that it was dangerous, not everyone in rehab is as nice as Stiles (as much as he doesn’t want to admit it). He tells Maisie off her for lying to him and Laura, and that pretending to be at school when she was somewhere else was wrong.

Maisie nods, says she knows it was wrong to lie but she had to because Derek wouldn’t understand. Derek tells her that it doesn’t justify her to lie and there has to be consequences. From now on Derek will finish at the gym in time to pick Maisie up, just as he’ll drop her off at school. She’s not allowed to go to the library on her own anymore or anywhere really. Her computer time is also cut down for two weeks, no more library runs instead she’ll have to settle with the books she has now, and of course focus on her school work.

She starts crying again, but Laura soothes her and tells her that, that’s what happens when you do something wrong. Derek reassures her that her punishment will be over in a blink of an eye and so long as Maisie is honest and upfront with him, than there won’t be any other punishments.

When Maisie asks if she’ll ever be able to talk to Stiles again, Derek sighs saying that it’s not up for discussion right now. This is really just Derek’s way of avoiding telling Maisie right now, when she’s too upset and vulnerable that neither he nor Maisie are ever going to see Stiles again if Derek has any say in the matter.

**

The following morning, Stiles trudges to get his breakfast not talking or sitting with anyone. He eats in silence and when he’s finished he walks back to his room and doesn’t do much of anything. He doesn’t participate in any group activities; he definitely isn’t going to be spending any time at the gym. There is a knock on his door though, and Dr Deaton walks in saying he’s ready to have his talk with Stiles.

He makes his way to Dr Deaton’s office and sits down in the all too familiar chair. The chair he thought he was making a lot of progress in, and now he seems to have taken ten steps backwards. He doesn’t say anything until Deaton speaks first, because he doesn’t know what to say or what to do. Either way it’s going to be a gruelling conversation.

They go over what exactly happened much the same as they did the day before but this time Dr Deaton takes notes and to check and see if Stiles had forgotten anything yesterday when emotions were high.

“So, are you going to tell the judge?” Stiles sighs.

“Tell the judge what exactly?”

“I don’t know. That I’m a menace to society, you think I’ll do more harm outside of the Lodge than good. Just _something_ that isn’t very good.”

“That depends,” Dr Deaton looks up for his journal, “on how you answer my next question.”

“Shoot,” because Stiles can’t exactly object to anything, can’t sit in silence. It will only cause more harm than good.

“Have you traded one dependency for another?”

Stiles’ brain flashes momentarily to all the candy he’s been eating since Maisie showed up and it did amount to _a lot_. But Stiles doesn’t think it’s possible to be addicted to candy, but then again there are stranger addictions. His brain flat lines when Dr Deaton continues, when Stiles doesn’t answer straight away.

“You may be sober of alcohol Mr Stilinski, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible for an addict to become dependent on something else or rather dependent on _someone_ or two someone’s.”

“Maisie and Derek,” Stiles breaths out, his pace turning pale white as he thinks about it.

He never really thought he was _dependent_ on them, never really given much thought to relying on someone to make him feel better. But there Maisie was, being his own personal cheerleader when he pushed everyone away. Then there was Derek who slowly started opening up, stopped being a mystery and the more Stiles got to known the Hale duo, the more he enjoyed their company. But was it a dependency?

“I don’t know,” Stiles admits as Dr Deaton nods his head.

“Ever since you started going to the gym, your demeanour has only increased. You became happier, more so than before when I thought you were turning a corner – but it was because of Maisie and by extension Derek. I don’t want to have to tell the judge that certain things aside, your overall progress and sobriety is threatened because you’re dependent on people. You need to rely on yourself only, you need to stay sober and work on your sobriety for yourself. No one else.”

“I do want to stay sober. I do want to get better by myself, but was it so wrong to enjoy hanging out with Maisie and Derek?”

“Forgetting that you didn’t have permission from Derek or the Lodge to hang out with Maisie,” Dr Deaton clears his throat, “it’s not a problem that you enjoyed spending time with them. Depending on the progress you make in the last few months you have here, my review to the judge should be a good one. If you prove you’re capable of staying sober on your own, and you’re not faking it just to appease me.”

Stiles nods his head in earnest, he is determined to prove that his sobriety is of the utmost importance to him.

“With that being said then,” Dr Deaton closes his journal, “Your therapy session times with me will increase, you obviously know you will not be going back to the gym, have any contact with Derek or Maisie nor will you get to choose another supervised activity out of the Lodge. Any group activities you choose to partake in at the Lodge will be ones that are indoors, no nature walks or rope courses.”

Stiles again, nods his head as he gets up to leave. He figures that his punishment could have been a lot worse. He could have gotten his ass thrown in jail because Derek decided to charge him with _something_ or because the Lodge deemed that Stiles wasn’t worthy of the Lodge or any rehab centre.

Now, Stiles doesn’t have his roommate Jackson, the company of Derek during the afternoon and Maisie after school. Now he really is on his own and now it’s time to prove that he can stay sober, stay focused on his recovery and be able to walk out of here a changed man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course everything had to go belly up eventually right?  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	14. Chapter 14

The months go by and Stiles is still on track with his recovery, or so Deaton tells him. He makes some more friends at the Lodge. He also gets a new roommate but he’s not as close to him as he and Jackson were (and that’s a surprise in itself, that he and Jackson are actually what he’d consider very good friends). Eventually Dr Deaton says that it’s okay for Stiles to continue his correspondence with Jackson, after Jackson had sent him a few letters and Stiles never got to read or reply to them.

Stiles explains in a letter everything that happened in vivid detail like it just happened yesterday and not months ago. He still gets upset when he thinks about it, he wonders what Derek’s doing, if he’s at the gym working out (and it’s something Stiles feels guilty have fantasises about given everything that happened between them) and he wonders what Maisie’s doing. He wonders if she’s still playing lacrosse, making more friends at school or if they’re still bullies.

It’s a longshot that someone like Derek, who gave up a partying past, would ever actually have interest in someone like Stiles, an addict yet it was something Stiles was secretly hoping far, deep, deep down. In a place he didn’t give it much thought, but it was still there and maybe Deaton was right and Stiles was just using Derek and Maisie as a coping mechanism. He knows he isn’t, but it’s something he does give more than one thought.

He and Scott still talk on the phone, Stiles doesn’t explain everything that happened though. It’s not a conversation that should be had over the phone when Scott doesn’t know the full story whereas Jackson did. It’s just yet another thing on the list Stiles is going to have to explain when he gets out of here.

**

With Maisie’s punishment far behind them, things haven’t gotten all that better. Sure, Maisie doesn’t lie anymore, she lets Derek drop and pick her up from school (not like she even had a choice). She does her homework, watches TV and plays games but she’s miserable. She doesn’t get invited to any parties, she doesn’t hang out with many friends and Derek will sometimes see her watching old reruns of Stellar Stiles. She never mentions again about seeing or talking to Stiles or Jackson though. Which explains her sudden interest in lacrosse, except now the Crosse sticks and equipment lay forgotten in the garage. Derek knew it wouldn’t last.

Derek even finds himself sometimes watching the same reruns of Stellar Stiles at night, after Maisie has gone to bed. He’s never seen a full episode, never paid attention to it when Maisie used to watch it when he was coming home from work. Now he watches them, watches Stiles flash his bright smile at whoever he’s talking to or interviewing whether it’s a puppet, animal or a person. He watches the way Stiles’ personality literally shines through the TV and how he so easily captivates the audience. He notices the moles on Stiles’ face that he’s come to memorise from all the times they sat across from each other at the juice bar or diner.

Sometimes, Laura will come in the room when Derek’s watching it and sigh. She under no circumstances feels bad for telling Derek that he’s a fucking idiot. He shouldn’t have ever fallen for an addict given his past, shouldn’t even give the little shit a second thought now that he has Maisie to think about, not just himself. He’ll mutter he knows but still he finishes watching the episode, wondering how well Maisie and Stiles got along. He wonders what they talked about, joked about; he wonders who got more words in edgewise. He knows how much Stiles likes to talk and knows Maisie talks just as much when she’s really interested in something.

Except, these days she doesn’t talk as much, doesn’t get as excited about the things she used to and he hopes it’s just a passing phase.

**

It’s the end of March and Stiles is given the news that he’s free to leave the Lodge. He’s completed everything he’s needs to and Dr Deaton has given his recommendation that Stiles is fit to be back out in society. Stiles immediately calls Scott excited, telling him that he can leave and Scott tells him that he’ll pick him up from the airport and to give him the details, Stiles says he will.

As he’s packing up all his clothes, which means he’s just shoving them into his suitcase without bothering to fold or organise them, Boyd knocks and enters the room.

“Almost done,” Stiles says, sitting on his suitcase, wiggling his ass on top of it to push it down as he zips it shut.

“Don’t go see them,” Boyd says and Stiles pauses on top of the suitcase to look at Boyd wondering if he heard correctly. “Derek and Maisie don’t go see them. They have their own lives to deal with.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Stiles admits, because he really wasn’t. He doesn’t know what he’d say, what he even could say to make it up to them. Besides he has a long list of people back in LA that he needs to apologise to, starting with his father and ending with Lydia.

“Good,” Boyd nods then grabs the suitcase once Stiles hops off of it, taking it towards the van waiting outside to take Stiles to the airport.

Stiles takes one last look around his room, remembering the shitty times he had in it and then all the amazing times he had with Jackson and Maisie. He smiles before he waves goodbye to his new roommate and heads out the front door and into the van.

Dr Deaton tells Stiles his phone is always there for Stiles to call and Isaac nods his head goodbye. Erica gets in the front seat as Boyd gets in the driver seat as they take Stiles to the airport. Once they’re there, Boyd says goodbye and Erica hugs Stiles, which throws him for a loop but he goes with it.

“Take care,” Erica says as she squeezes Stiles tightly. “I mean it, or I’ll find you.”

Stiles snorts because he doesn’t doubt Erica would find him. He gives them one last wave before he heads into the airport and towards the check in desk and then the terminal.

After less than an hour flight Stiles is back in LA and he grabs his suitcase off the conveyor belt and heads towards the arrivals gate looking for Scott. Scott’s there with a big sign that says Stiles and as soon as they make eye contact, they’re both beaming and running towards each other like they’re a couple whose been away from each other for too long. They crash into each other with a huge hug, squeezing so tight they’re both going to suffocate soon.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles says when he pulls away to look at Scott. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he says again pulling Scott into another hug.

“It’s okay,” Scott says and he means it, he really means it. Scott grabs Stiles’ suitcase and leads him out towards the parking garage.

That was the first person crossed off of Stiles’ apology list but he always knew that Scott would be the easiest. He always knew that Scott would forgive Stiles, just as Stiles would forgive Scott for anything, that’s what brothers do and at the end of the day that’s what they were.

“Do you want to go back to your apartment or your dads?” Scott asks as he indicates, turning onto the highway.

“My dad’s,” Stiles nods his head fiddling with the radio. He’s feeling good right now, on a roll and wants to get out as many apologies as he can. “I don’t even want to know how shitty my apartment looks right now or if I’ve been evicted.”

“I’ve been paying the mortgage out of your bank account, and hired someone to give it a thorough clean so you shouldn’t be walking into a dust bunny infested apartment.”

“Thanks,” Stiles laughs, “to be honest my apartment wasn’t the main thing on my mind when I was in rehab, or my money.”

“That’s what managers are for.”

“No, that’s what brothers are for,” Stiles admits clapping Scott on the shoulder.

Much like Scott, the minute Stiles’ dad sees Stiles getting out of the car he brings him into a huge embrace, forgetting about the luggage and anything else. He then slaps Stiles upside the head, a little tap and pulls away.

“It’s good to see you son.”

“It’s good to see you dad,” and then Stiles walks behind his dad and brings Melissa into just as big of a hug. Because Melissa has been the one that’s been looking after his father when Stiles couldn’t even be bothered to visit him or keep in contact. He owes just as much of an apology to her as he does his father.

Melissa and his father lead Stiles into the house and there’s a spread of food and Stiles’ stomach grumbles because he hasn’t eaten since he left the Lodge. They sit around the table, digging into the food and talking. They avoid the topic of how Stiles did in rehab until Stiles tells them that it’s okay, they can ask him, he’s not going to have a break down or anything.

They ask him questions, like what he did, what he learned etc. and Stiles answers them. Though he doesn’t bring up Derek and Maisie, that’s a conversation for another day, right now he just wants to focus on his family. Allison shows up later when they’re digging into dessert and she forgives Stiles the minute she sees him. Lydia doesn’t show up but Stiles had expected as much.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Scott asks in the car as they head back towards central LA and Stiles’ apartment.

“Nah it’s okay, you’re just a phone call away anyway right?” Stiles answers. As much as it would be nice to have a bro night tonight, Stiles needs to do this on his own first. Get through his first night out of the Lodge, away from the safety net that he’s had.

When Stiles walks into his apartment and flicks the lights on it’s pretty much how he always remembered it. All his furniture is where it used to be – Scott is right – whoever cleaned it, cleaned it thoroughly because he doesn’t see a speck of dust. He wheels his suitcase into his bedroom, turning the lights on as he goes so that it’s nice and bright in the apartment despite it being late at night. When he walks back out towards the kitchen, he walks past the wine cellar. He freezes for a moment staring at the large door, before he breaths in and opens it. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, or why he even did it but he’s not surprised to see that it’s absolutely empty. No bottles of alcohol, not even any empty ones in sight. Scott must have cleared it out and he’s glad that he did. It’s not like he needed a fix, but he’ll sleep better knowing there’s no alcohol in the house.

There’s a new carton of milk in the fridge for Stiles along with his favourite cereal – Lucky Charms (he’s still ten at heart) – on top the fridge and a fresh bag of ground coffee. Everything Stiles will need for breakfast the next morning. He just has to get through the night first.

After he showers and changes into his PJ’s he lies on top of his bed with his bedroom lights on, fully bright. He’s never needed a night light to sleep, always preferred the pitch black, even in the mornings because any sign of light and he’d wake up. But now he needs the lights to not feel so alone, not feel like he’s drowning in the black much like he did when he had a hallucination of his mother. He doesn’t know how he manages to fall asleep with the lights on and the curtains open, but he does. He doesn’t dream, doesn’t have any nightmares and maybe that’s a good thing. It’s just a black, through sleep.

The sun rising nice and early wakes him up and he still feels tired and drained but at the end of it all, he’s survived his first night. Sure he was only in his apartment and not outside in the ‘real world,’ but it was all about baby steps. Right?

**

After breakfast, a nice bowl of Lucky Charms and a warm cup of coffee Stiles changes into some clothes and heads out doing the one thing he’s dreading because it can go one of two ways. He doesn’t bother phoning Lydia’s office because he knows if he does they’ll tell him that she’s busy or out when she’s really sitting in her office but she just doesn’t want to see him.

Instead he takes a cab (thanks to his licence still being suspended – which he needs to go get that sorted out now that it’s been more than six months) to her office and tries to steady his breathing as the elevator ascends, getting closer and closer to Lydia Martin. When he steps off the elevator, he sees the receptionist look up and then do a double take when she takes in who it is.

“I’d like to see Lydia,” he holds his head up high and tries to speak with a steady voice.

“One minute,” the receptionist says and picks up the phone, presumably to call Lydia. Or maybe security. That could definitely be an option. The receptionist says a few words into the phone quietly that Stiles can’t hear and then hangs up. “Ms Martin is in meetings all day today, she’ll have to reschedule.”

“Okay, when?” Stiles asks.

“She’ll have to contact you herself,” and that’s when Stiles knows. He knows that Lydia is probably in the office but she doesn’t have meetings all day, the receptionist is lying so that Lydia doesn’t have to see Stiles.

“I’ll wait,” Stiles says striding towards the comfy plush leather chairs that are used for clients who are waiting. He plops down and sits there expectantly. The receptionist stares in shock for a few seconds before she’s picking up the phone again and saying something. Stiles is certain security is about to come after his ass now – but no one shows up. He sees employees and clients walk in and out.

He sits there for he doesn’t know how long; he ignores his grumbling stomach and his bladder waiting to see Lydia. He’s on his own mini version of a hunger strike until he can speak to Lydia. He at least wants to apologise, get that out there and then _if_ Lydia doesn’t want to talk to him after that, then there’s nothing more he can do.

It’s nearing 5 PM when Stiles hears the click of heels and Lydia emerges through the glass doors that lead from the main offices into the front foyer where the reception desk is. She’s dressed as immaculately as usual, in a knee length black skirt and a white ruffled blouse. Her red curly hair is curled to perfection, framing her face.

“Stiles,” she says pursing her lips, her voice void of any emotions. She turns on her heels and pushes through the glass doors heading back to her office. Stiles takes that as his cue to follow, he remembers where Lydia’s office is.

When he enters Lydia’s office, he shuts the door shut behind him though the walls are glass so if Lydia decides to ream him out, anyone walking by would see – he would most likely deserve it anyway. She sits behind her large desk, her legs crossed and her hands on top of each other on top of her desk.

“So you’re out,” she eyes Stiles from his head to his toes taking him in.

“And almost all better.”

Lydia snorts – and Lydia is a lady, she never snorts. Yeah, Stiles deserves that too.

“I said almost,” Stiles tries going for easy-going, “Not fully better until I apologise to everyone I hurt. That includes you.”

“For what?” Lydia crosses her arms; she’s not going to make this easy for Stiles. Not as easy as it was when he apologised to Scott, Allison and his father.

“For what I said, about sleeping with me. For putting you through a tough situation having to lie and spin stories to keep my drinking out of the public. You’re first and foremost my friend, I let myself forget that and I never should have put you in such a situation.”

Lydia taps her perfectly manicured nails on top of her desk as she mulls it over.

“C’mon Lyds, I’m trying here,” Stiles smiles. “I know things can’t just return to how it used to be, it might never, but I still want to be friends with you.”

“You’re right we are friends,” Lydia sighs starting to give in.

“I think there’s a box of those Macaron’s you like from Paris with your name on it,” and Stiles isn’t above trying for a little bribe – he knows how much Lydia loves those. “Hell, there’s a ticket to Paris with your name on it if you really want.”

That earns a genuine smile from Lydia, “It’s a start.”

“So do I get a hug?” Stiles asks standing up. Lydia nods her head, walking around the desk and hugs Stiles.

“You ever pull a stunt like that again and you won’t want to know what I have planned.”

“I can only imagine what you’d have planned,” Stiles snorts. But it’s a start, Lydia is back on the road to forgiving Stiles and he’ll take it.

**

Stiles has a lot of time on his hands these days, he doesn’t actually have a job considering he was fired. His days aren’t filled with group activities like at the Lodge and his friends have their own jobs and lives to deal with. Stiles has admits to himself that he’s lonely.

He does take Deaton up on his suggestion to look up a therapist Deaton had recommended talking to, one that specialises in addiction. Stiles never thought he’d actually admit that he missed Deaton, missed his therapy sessions but this new therapist is just as bright, a little less witty but nonetheless has Stiles’ files and listens and gives advice just as well as Deaton.

Stiles also joins an AA group, even has the courage to stand up at the front by the podium and tells his story and it’s just like he’s back at the Lodge, he doesn’t feel judged and he’s surrounded by people that understand him, had it worse than him. It’s a bad thing to do but he likes to know that he’s not the worse one out there.

**

The tough times comes when Stiles has to go out in public and resume his normal life. Especially at restaurants, but he knows he has to face it, face his demons. It’s not like he’s going to walk into a bar and sit there and abstain from alcohol to test himself. But he does have to be able to be around alcohol, whether he’s at a restaurant or at a party. His therapist agrees but he doesn’t need to push himself to surround himself with it before he’s ready.

“So do you have any idea what you want to do now?” Scott asks. They’re at a restaurant, having lunch. It’s a busy restaurant, noisy, with people eating and drinking their alcohol. Stiles doesn’t even feel the tug to drink, not really anyway. Whenever he thinks he wants a drink, he thinks about the times that he woke up in his own vomit, the withdrawal symptoms he went through where he hallucinated and it’s just not worth it.

“I don’t know,” Stiles admits shrugging his shoulders. He has lasagne for lunch with a crisp glass of lemonade to quench his thirst. “It’s not like I have much experience in anything else but TV.”

“You think you’d want to go back into TV?”

“I don’t think any network in their right mind would hire me,” Stiles snorts.

“Maybe you could work behind the scenes, like when you were interning but with more responsibilities.”

“There was something I was actually thinking about doing, I’ve even been working on it, but I don’t know how well it would work out,” Stiles admits.

“Whatever you need or however I can help, just let me know dude,” Scott says and it’s so earnest. Even after everything he still has faith in Stiles and it’s exactly what he needs.

“Come over later and see what I’m working on then?”

“You got it.”

They finish their lunch and Scott goes back to work, currently working as a general manager at an up and coming recording studio. He does much of the same stuff he did for Stiles, manage accounts, book meetings and whatnot. It’s not the same, not getting to work with your best friend but it pays the bills and it’ll do.

Stiles walks aimlessly around LA just enjoying being outside, in the bright warming sun. He tries not to think too much about Beacon Hills, Derek and Maisie. But whenever he sees a little girl run by with dark hair he thinks of Maisie, thinks of how excited she’d get talking about something new she’d learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least Stiles is out.   
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here have a chapter a day early because I have to work tomorrow and will probably be too tired/lazy to update.

It’s been two hours, two long hours that Derek has been walking in circles around the book store as Maisie keeps piling books upon books in Derek’s arm.

“Maisie I think you have enough books now,” Derek tries to lead Maisie in the direction of the cash register – not that it works. Maisie ignores her father walking down another aisle. Derek sighs, but doesn’t complain any further because it’s the first time that Maisie has finally deigned to do anything in a few months. She’s been saving up her allowances, wallowing at home instead of going out – even to the library.

Derek sits down at one of the kiddy tables, on the too small chair that surprisingly doesn’t break under his weight. He piles the books on top of the multi-coloured table but keeps a close eye on it, if someone steals one of Maisie’s books from her pile, there would be a field day. At least the store isn’t that busy, there aren’t many children running around screaming – because as much as Derek loves his daughter, being surrounded by kids is not his forte. He soon gets distracted reading ahead through one of Maisie’s more advanced book so he’ll actually understand what she’s talking about.

“Oh my God!” Maisie screams at the top of her lungs.

It startles Derek as he jolts upright tipping the chair backwards and letting some of the books go flying off the table. He abandons the books not giving a flying fuck about them as he runs up and down the aisles looking for Maisie.

“Maisie?” he yells, repeating himself. He images a whole host of horrible things, like some pervert trying to kidnap her. He rounds the corner and sees Maisie standing alone in the aisle clutching a book in her hand. Derek breaths out a sigh of relief that Maisie is alright and when one of the employees rushes over to see if everything is alright he waves her away saying everything is okay.

“Maisie what was that? You can’t just scream like that, I thought something was wrong.”

“Sorry daddy,” she says not even looking at Derek. Her eyes are still glued to the book she’s holding, so tightly her little knuckles are white.

Derek is utterly confused so he takes the next few steps to close the distance between himself and his daughter to see what she’s holding. It looks like just another children’s book until Derek’s eyes lands on the author. Stiles Stilinski.

Derek crouches down so that he’s at Maisie’s level to take a closer look at the book. _The adventures of Macey, the shy little girl._ Derek’s heart stops the minute his eyes land on the illustrations. To anyone else it would look like any other girl, but Derek knows in a heartbeat that it’s Maisie. The girl has shoulder length dark, almost black-brown hair in pigtails and large glasses framing her face.

His heart starts to beat a thousand beats per second. It feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, his voice caught as his eyes scan the front cover over and over trying to make sure what he’s seeing is real. Stiles. Stiles wrote a book, about a shy little girl, a girl that looks like Maisie.

“Maisie –” Derek starts.

“– We have to get this,” Maisie whispers clutching the book to her chest and walks towards the cash register. She forgets about the books abandoned on the table only caring about the book Stiles wrote. She takes her little wallet out of her back pack and hands her allowance money to the cashier, she doesn’t even let the cashier put the book in a bag, and instead she requests to hold it.

When they get home, Maisie plops down on the couch in the family room and looks up at her dad.

“Will you read it with me?” she asks – and Derek was never going to say no.

“Of course,” he sits down beside Maisie putting his arm around her behind the couch as Maisie places the book in her lap and opens the front cover.

The dedication page reads:

_To a beautiful, special girl who is bright beyond her years and helped me through one of the toughest times in my life. Thank you MH & DH. _

Maisie’s fingers run over the paper, across the dedication as it sinks in whose initials those are. Derek closes his eyes trying to steady his breathing; he doesn’t know what to think or what to do.

She opens the book and starts to read it out loud, they take their time reading the little paragraphs and studying the accompanying pictures. They all feature the little girl who looks exactly like Maisie as she goes about her adventures.

The book is obviously about Maisie and Stiles but instead of Stiles being human and an alcoholic – which wouldn’t go over well as a children’s book – it’s about Maisie, or rather Macey the actual character who finds an injured grey and white wolf. Macey takes in the injured wolf home to care for him. The girl’s father says there’s no way they’re going to look after the wolf, no way at all. Eventually she breaks down her dad and they get to take care of him, she reads to him, takes him on walks, goes into the forest and they run around, throwing a ball around. Eventually, even the dad gives in, starting to feed the wolf treats, scolding him a little less each day.

Derek thinks it’s presumably the things that Stiles and Maisie did, knows that Jackson and Stiles are the reason Maisie was ever interested in lacrosse in the first place. At the beginning of the book, Macey doesn’t have many friends, stays to herself but by the end of the book, some of her classmates want to see the wolf, hangout with Macey. Eventually, the wolf gets better and has to go back to his family so Macey has to say goodbye.

But by the end of the book Macey isn’t sad to see the wolf go, she’s happy that the wolf is all better, gets to spend time with his wolf family and Macey keeps the pictures she took of them together as a souvenir but also gets to hang out with her real friends from school. Sometimes, Macey will hear wolves howling at the moon and although she can’t see the wolf, she knows he’s somewhere out there and that makes it all the better.

Once they’re finished reading, Maisie is sitting on her dads lap little tears falling down her face. Derek snuggles into her closer, running his hand up and down her back to soothe her. He doesn’t know whether she’s upset or she loved it but he gives her time to calm down.

Derek on the other hand, is anything but calm despite the fact that he looks like he is. He wants to simultaneously punch Stiles in the face for ever writing a book based off his daughter and kiss the life out of him for writing a book about his daughter. There’s nothing like a confidence boost than to know a book is dedicated to you and also based off of you.

“It was perfect,” Maisie whispers into Derek’s chest. She sniffles looking up to see her dad, “wasn’t it?”

“It was a great book,” Derek nods his head in agreement.

“Can we read it again?” she asks running her hands over the cover of the book.

“Maybe before bed, I have to start dinner.”

“Okay,” Maisie sighs. She places the book on the coffee table but doesn’t take her eyes off of it.

When Derek leaves the room, she’s still smiling like a loon staring at the book and Derek’s heart swells because it’s the first time that he’s seen Maisie smile in such a long time – smile that brightly. He doesn’t want to think too much into the fact that it was Stiles that made her smile.

After Maisie’s asleep, after Derek and Maisie read the book one last time, he takes the book and slips out of Maisie’s room. He tosses the book to Laura so she can look over it. Her eyes bug out when she sees who wrote the book, and even further when she continues to read the book, flipping through the pages.

She whistles once she’s finished reading. “What is this?”

“I have no idea,” Derek sighs sitting down beside his sister.

“A love note to you two? An apology?”

“I have no idea,” Derek repeats. He scrubs his hands over his face trying to work through everything. He hasn’t spoken or seen Stiles in months and yet here Stiles is, publishing a book about Maisie.

“You always fall for the wrong ones don’t you?” Laura pats Derek on the knee getting up and heading to her bedroom.

Yeah no fucking shit, Derek does always fall for the wrong one.

Not that it stops him from taking the book upstairs with him, flipping the pages again rereading it for the third time before he falls asleep, and his thoughts on Stiles.

**

“It took you this long to come find me?” Jackson asks he’s leaning against his car in the driveway as Stiles pulls in.

“I knew you’d miss me, you filthy liar,” Stiles jokes the minute he steps out of the car. Stiles made the drive up to San Francisco to see Jackson, now that he’s been out for a few months. They’ve been in contact, mostly over texting both busy working on their own stuff but now Stiles has a free weekend and so here he is, seeing his old roommate and a good friend.

After a quick embrace – both still wanting to pretend they’re still manly – Jackson leads them into his house. It wasn’t like Stiles pictured where Jackson lived but he always figured it would look like a bachelors apartment, much like Stiles’, with modern sleek furniture. Instead Jackson’s house looks lived in, still with the modern furniture and a mess, but homey. A lot more homey than Stiles’ penthouse apartment was.

Jackson hands Stiles a can of Coke, Stiles sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, Jackson on the other side. Jackson opens his can of Coke and takes a sip, studying Stiles.

“How’s it been?” Stiles asks popping the tab open of his drink, “Being out?”

“Lonely,” Jackson admits, “weird as hell. My therapist is a douche but he works, haven’t relapsed, haven’t gone to see my supplier or even wanted to take anything. You?”

Stiles snorts. “Same, lonely, therapist is alright, I go to regular AA meetings. It’s still weird being out and seeing people drink, it’s a lot more public than drugs I guess but I keep my 30 day chip with me, in my wallet. It’s been almost three months of being sober since I got out of rehab.”

“That’s good. Oh hey,” Jackson says brightening up, he walks out of the kitchen and returns a minute later holding Stiles’ book and a newspaper. “You just couldn’t live without the fame could you?”

Jackson opens up the San Francisco newspaper to an article in the entertainment section, all about Stiles. Stiles has seen some articles on himself, since the release of his book but he’s mainly ignored them. Only asked Scott or Allison to read them and tell them if the review was good at least. But this time, Stiles reads the article.

The article goes into detail about Stiles’ sudden departure from his show – Stellar Stiles – and it’s not much of a secret now that it was because he was an alcoholic. It speculates that he went to rehab but they don’t know where – sources even searched all the popular rehabs for celebrities. Then it talks about his book, and if he’s aiming for a comeback. Overall though, the actual review on the book is good and that at least satisfies Stiles.

Jackson rummages around a drawer in the kitchen full of junk until he produces a Sharpie and chucks it at Stiles’ head. Stiles is still reading the article so it hits him on the forehead and falls to the table.

“Ouch, you fucker,” Stiles rubs his forehead more for effect than any actual pain.

“Sign the damn book Stilinski. Seems to be tradition doesn’t it?”

Stiles snorts yet again, but uncaps the Sharpie with his mouth and signs the front cover. “You can give it to your future kids, and tell them it was from uncle Stiles.”

“My future kids better have their own book dedicated to them,” Jackson raises his perfectly manicured eyebrow (how does he can manage that) at Stiles.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles deflects capping the marker.

“Bullshit,” Jackson closes the book and points to the picture of the little girl, “That’s Maisie. You know it, I know it and if she’s seen it, she knows it.”

“I took a bit of artistic license it’s not exactly her,” Stiles defends himself.

“You’re a wolf in the book,” Jackson points out.

“Well I couldn’t write a book about what actually happened could I?”

Jackson shakes his head and offers Stiles a tour of his house, talking about random stuff as they go. He points to some of his old trophies and pictures from when Jackson played lacrosse. Stiles even sees pictures of Jackson’s parents even though he hardly ever spoke about them. In his office he even still has the letters that Stiles and Maisie wrote, some of the pictures she drew for Jackson as well. Hanging above his laptop is the going away/get better card Maisie drew for him, and the makeshift book she made is resting on a shelf.

“Wow,” Stiles whistles, “I didn’t take you for sentimental.”

“And I didn’t take you as the kind of person to declare your love in the most obvious yet understated way,” Jackson retorts.

Stiles splutters trying to come up with _something_ to say, instead he just stands there gaping like a fish. Jackson chuckles plopping down in his office chair.

“Stiles you wrote a book based off of your friendship with a little girl, you hung out with her dad and crossed the boundary from a working relationship to something more with him. I never dedicated any of the food I made to Antonio. You know why? Because I’m not in love with him.”

“I’m not-”

“Save it Stilinski, you might be able to fool everyone else in your life but I was the only other one at the Lodge. I saw the way you acted with Maisie, the way you were when you came back from the gym. I also saw you two on Christmas, talking.”

“I thought you were with Antonio!” Stiles cried pointing an accusing finger at Jackson as he sits on top of Jackson’s desk.

Jackson rolls his eyes like Stiles is an idiot. “I still have eyes you know, I saw you two sitting on the bench, sipping your hot chocolate,” Jackson waggles his eyebrows.

“How do you even make that sound dirty you freak,” Stiles jokes completely ignoring what Jackson is implying, mainly because he knows there’s no use in denying it. If anyone knows what Stiles is feeling its Jackson, he’s right after all, he was the only other one that was there in the Lodge with him.

“So, you gonna show me what you’ve been working on?” Stiles taps his fingers in a rhythm on the table, going for a distraction. He already knows what Jackson’s been working on, heard about and it in texts and seen pictures but he wants to see it in person.

**

Jackson pulls up to a building that looks pretty bare on the outside, in need of some work. It’s on a busy street with lots of people and tourists milling about. He drives around to the back and parks his car. Jackson pulls out a large ring of keys, finding the right one and opens the back door, ushering Stiles inside.

They walk into a large kitchen, full of large stainless steel appliances. There are ovens, stoves, fridges, even a large brick pizza oven off to one side. There’s some other boxes lying about but other than that it’s in pristine condition.

“Dude,” Stiles says in awe taking it all in. He walks from one fridge to the other, looking over everything as he goes. He’s careful not to touch anything before he gets fingerprints everywhere dirtying it up or worse yet break something.

“Come see the main part,” Jackson leads Stiles through the swinging doors out on to the main floor. There are tables and booths scattered around, a large bar area - which Stiles only gives a passing glance too – he takes in all the decorations. He looks from the paintings on the walls, to the low hanging light fixtures, the exposed beams and even the waterfall at the front entrance. It’s a stark contrast to what the outside currently looks like.

“We have the painters coming in next week to re do the outside,” Jackson explains, “and then we’ll go through the final walk through, we should be ready to open up in two months or so.”

Jackson is talking about his and Antonio’s restaurant. Antonio had apparently been really impressed with his cooking skills; it was much more advanced than someone who only had a small interest in it. Antonio had always wanted to expand from his own restaurant in Beacon Hills but never wanted to leave his family behind to do it. That’s when they came up with the idea for Jackson to be in charge of this restaurant.

They’d still hire a head chef, but Jackson would also get in on the cooking. As much as Jackson loved lacrosse, it was an old part of his life and it wasn’t something he was keen to get back too – at least not as a career, a hobby, sure. It kept Jackson busy, his mind focused on something else so he didn’t fall back onto old habits and it really did take up a lot of Jackson’s time.

Jackson leads them back into the kitchen and he promises to make Stiles one of his best dishes. He takes out pans, pots and all the ingredients he needs. He even makes Stiles help even as Stiles protests that he’s more than likely ruin the dish than he would help though Jackson has none of it.

Stiles actually has a lot of fun cooking, it’s the most complicated thing he’s ever cooked and he’d never be able to do it again – but the smell is amazing and his mouth is watering. They cook seafood ravioli stuffed with crab, crayfish, salmon and ricotta. It’s served in a tomato sauce and has shrimp served on top. Even the presentations looks fantastic and Stiles knows that this restaurant is going to be high class.

“Dig in,” Jackson says. They opt to eat in the kitchen sitting on top of the counters and such a delicious dish should really be eaten at a table but they’re too lazy to walk the few extra feet, they’d just rather dig in.

“Oh my God. Marry me,” Stiles blurts after he’s taken his first bite.

“I’d rather marry Boyd,” Jackson jokes but he looks pleased that Stiles likes his dish.

Stiles doesn’t just like the dish, he _loves_ the dish. He wants to marry the dish.

“I’ll never look at a can of ravioli the same again.”

“That shit is disgusting,” Jackson scoffs at the mere thought of eating pasta out of a tin. Which, given how well Jackson cooks – he has the right to scoff all he wants.

Later that evening, after they had an almond, plum and pistachio tart for dessert Stiles is getting back into his car ready to head back to LA. They promise to keep in touch and next time Jackson will have to come down to LA to see Stiles.

“I’ll send you an invitation for the opening if you’re free,” Jackson says waving goodbye as Stiles gets into his car.

“Hell yeah I’ll make myself free,” Stiles wouldn’t miss it for the fucking world.

“Hey,” Jackson calls just as Stiles has pulled out of the driveway. He rolls down his window as Jackson runs up to the window, his hands resting on the side of the car.

“You should go see them,” Jackson suggests and Stiles doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about. He knows.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Stiles really, really doesn’t think it would be a good idea.

“Just think about it,” Jackson says letting go of the car and walks back up to his house.

It’s all Stiles can think about the whole drive home. As much as he’d love to see them, Derek and Maisie, he doesn’t think he’d be very welcome.

**

Of course, Scott is either Stiles’ voice of reason or the devil on his shoulder – Stiles isn’t sure which one he’d classify him as yet.  Stiles is sitting around the dinner table at his father and Melissa’s house for Sunday dinner – their new agreement. Stiles’ father said he had a lot of missed time to make up for with his son and Stiles couldn’t deny that either.

Anyway, Scott – with his fantastic timing – thinks now is as good a time as any to bring up the Derek/Maisie topic. Stiles’ father and everyone else already know about everything that happened now, there was no use in hiding it. But after their first talk about it, no one really brought it up again. Well, now Scott has.

“You need to go see Derek.”

Stiles chokes on a piece of cauliflower. Melissa smacks his back until he stops spluttering. He takes a sip of his water, shooting Scott a ‘what the fuck look.’

“Are you fucking insane?” and it’s a testament to how awkward this conversation is going that even after all these year’s Stiles’ dad doesn’t say ‘language Stiles.’ If anything his father seems to be nodding his head like he’s in agreement with Stiles.

“No,” Scott shrugs moving his vegetables around his plate like a child. “I just think you wrote a book about Maisie and that’s a pretty big deal.”

“It was nothing.”

“It was something,” Scott narrows his eyes at Stiles. “But that’s not exactly what I mean – just. When I went with you to some of those AA meetings everyone talks about forgiveness they’ve asked for, had to earn, and you’ve done that with all of us. We’ve all forgiven you, but you hurt two other people and they deserve an apology as much as any of us did.”

“I- that’s...” Stiles starts and then shuts up because yeah maybe Scott, the little turd does have a point.

“Scott might be on to something,” Stiles’ father nods his head. The traitor he’s supposed to be on his own son’s side. But then again, as Melissa always tells Stiles, they’re both their sons.

“I just don’t think I’d be welcome there. I might cause more damage than good.”

“But can you _really_ move forward with your life if you haven’t at least tried to apologise?” Scott asks setting his fork and knife down – because now this is turning into serious conversation times. “Sure, you wrote a book it’s almost an apology in itself but you can’t be sure that they’ve seen it and even if they have it’s not the same as an apology in person.”

“And what if I end up coming home with a black eye,” Stiles protests – which just means he’s losing this conversation and everyone knows it. Especially when his dad snorts and tries to cover it up.

“It’s a price you have to pay when it comes to apologising,” Melissa jokes. “Besides you have a nurse to look after you when you get back. It might do you some good, time for a fresh start” she finishes seriously.

“I hate you all right now,” Stiles groans shoving his plate aside because he knows he’s lost this conversation. He knows he’ll be going back to Beacon Hills in search of Derek to try and apologise. He knows there’s a very high chance that he’ll also be coming home injured, if he doesn’t end up in a ravine somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it Macey/Maisie? Yeah I'm lame-o I know. Also, I totally had to throw a wolf in there somehow didn't I?  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	16. Chapter 16

Maisie carried that damn book around with her everywhere she went, always tucked in to her little backpack and Derek started hating the sight of it. She took it to school with her, she brought it back home with her, even if Derek took her grocery shopping with him, she had it with her. It was almost as if it was like a security blanket and she needed it with her at all times – and Derek didn’t know how to deal with that.

He thought he was going to need to have another talk with her; maybe he’d have to talk to someone – a therapist – and get some opinions on how to deal with it. It was a huge bundle of confusion until one morning - a week after school had ended for the summer – Maisie came downstairs ready for Derek to take her to the library and she didn’t have the book with her. Instead she had a sheet of paper and she sat down at the table, the paper in front of her and her arms folded in front of her. Derek knew this was going to be a serious conversation – could sense it – so he sat down in the chair adjacent to Maisie and gave her time to figure out what she was going to say.

“I was thinking,” Maisie starts, sitting up a little straighter, “that I’d like to go here,” she slides the paper across until Derek has a hold of it. He holds up the paper and his heart stops for a second when he sees it’s a little brochure for a day camp here in Beacon Hills. The last time he tried to get Maisie to go to camp she had a hissy fit, running to her room, and now here she is ready to go all on her own – Derek didn’t even have to ask.

“Are – you’re, you’re sure?” Derek asks setting down the paper to really look at Maisie.

“Yes,” Maisie nods her head. “It’s only for a week and it’s during the day. I thought you wanted me to go to camp?”

“It was only a suggestion, only if you wanted to,” Derek reassures Maisie. He doesn’t want her doing anything she doesn’t want to just to make him happy.

“I’m sure,” Maisie nods her head. “Maybe they’ll even have lacrosse there and I can take my stick.”

Derek laughs, almost forgetting about the lacrosse sticks he bought, now in the back of the closet. “Maybe they will Mase.”

That evening Derek prints out the forms from online, writes out the cheques ready to drop it off the next morning.

What’s even more surprising is the following week when the camp starts and Maisie is getting ready, her little backpack full of snacks and a change of clothes, there’s still no sign of the book Stiles wrote. He doesn’t mention it, instead bundles her into the car and kisses her on the forehead telling her she can call him anytime she wants if she’s uncomfortable. She nods her head running off in the direction of the other children and waves one last time at Derek.

When he goes back home, he looks around Maisie’s room and sees the book among the collection of other books. It’s starting to wear thin from the amount of times that she read it – but she’s not using it as a security blanket anymore. Once again, Derek finds himself torn between wanting to punch Stiles in the face for writing the damn book or kiss him for being the reason that Maisie has the confidence to go to camp – to be around other kids.

All through dinner Maisie tells Derek and Laura all about her day at camp and how they got to play outside and go on a scavenger hunt. She goes on about how the following day they’re going to learn how to canoe and she can’t wait. Derek never thought he’d see the day where Maisie willingly went to a camp and wanted to socialise with other children nor did he think he’d see the day where she’d rather be outside instead of holed inside reading a book.

**

Stiles decides that driving to Beacon Hills is a better idea than taking a plane. He figures it would give him more than enough time to talk himself out of even going to see Derek, going to apologise. His stomach is in knots and he feels like he’s on the verge of throwing up more times than he can count. He’s packed a bag full of some clothes, planning on staying for a few days because he also wants to go back to the Lodge, to see Deaton.

He doesn’t call Deaton and tells him he’s coming – even though Deaton told him his door was always open for Stiles – mainly because if he went to see Deaton first, told him that he was planning on seeing Derek and apologising that Deaton would talk him out of it. Rightly so Dr Deaton should probably talk Stiles out of it, but now that he’s half an hour out of Beacon Hills he knows he has to see Derek.

Once he’s in the city limits he pulls into the first motel that he sees and pays for a room for an undetermined amount of time. It’s getting late at night and he knows it’s no use in trying to find Derek now he’ll probably have already gone home for the night. Instead he showers off the day old grime from the road trip and tries to fall asleep.

It’s not easy, the bed is lumpy and uncomfortable and he runs through a thousand different scenarios that could go down when he sees Derek. Of course all the ones he _actually_ wants to happen won’t. Not with those last words that Derek said to him still ringing in his ears. He’s not sure what time he falls asleep or if he even actually ever fell asleep because the next thing he knows it’s morning again. Which means it’s time to find Derek.

Beacon Hills isn’t that large and Stiles remembers enough to remember how to get to the gym. He pulls into the parking lot, his stomach doing summersaults at seeing the ‘One Hale of a Workout,’ sign above the door. There’s a few other cars in the parking lot and Stiles knows the gym is open and Derek is in.

Then again, it’s summer and Maisie probably isn’t even in school anymore. Which, then Derek might not even be at the gym it’s not like he needs to be there for it to run – he might be at home with Maisie. And Stiles really hasn’t thought this plan through other than to get to Beacon Hills, find Derek and apologise. He just hadn’t thought out the logistics.

Rebecca’s at her reception desk and her eyes widen when she sees Stiles.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she doesn’t hesitate to blurt out, standing up. So, she’d heard the story.

“I need to see Derek,” Stiles ignores her walking past the desk and towards the gym. Rebecca is right on her heels as she repeats again that Stiles shouldn’t be here. When he enters there’s a few people in the gym but it doesn’t take him long to realise that Derek isn’t here. He turns around, almost crashing into Rebecca and walks back out towards the entryway.

His eyes land on the closed door he’s seen Derek walk through so many times before – his office. It’s surprising that Rebecca hasn’t dragged his ass out of here yet and he’s under no illusions that she could _easily_ drag his ass out of here.   

“Knock knock,” Stiles says his voice surprisingly steady as he taps on Derek’s office door and then turns the handle not waiting for a response.

When he opens the door he sees Derek look up from a bunch of paperwork, his eyes landing on Stiles and then widening in horror much like Rebecca’s. Rebecca is standing behind Stiles looking terrified as her eyes dart from Stiles to Derek. When Derek doesn’t say anything she scurries away back to her desk. Derek can handle Stiles from here on out.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Derek asks standing up from his chair, his paperwork skittering around on the table.

“I’m here to see you,” Stiles shrugs taking a step into Derek’s office. At least Derek doesn’t tell him to get out, not immediately anyway.

“Don’t you remember what I told you last time I saw you?” Derek rumbles but he doesn’t make to move from around his desk. Instead his palms are on his table and he’s leaning forward, his eyes boring into Stiles like lasers.

“Vividly,” Stiles nods.

“Then if you knew what’s fucking good for you, you’d leave.”

“No can do. Not until I apologise,” Stiles adds on quickly when Derek looks like he’s about to flip his shit. When Derek doesn’t say anything Stiles continues talking, more like rambling but he’d rather ramble and get it all out there.

“For everything. For going behind your back, for hurting Maisie. For hurting you. I – there’s no excuse. For any of it but I’m well on my way to getting better and part of that is trying to make amends, apologise to everyone I hurt.”

“And you think a blanket ‘I’m sorry’ is going to cover it?”

“Of course not, but I have to start somewhere.”

“You think it was okay to just make us fall in love with you yet the whole time you were lying?”

Stiles’ heart starts to hammer in his chest, his ears ringing when he hears what Derek said. When he lets the words sink in and if he weren’t how many months sober, he’d have thought he was drunk.

“Us?” Stiles asks.

“Us? No, Maisie. Make Maisie fall in love with you,” Derek sighs shaking his head like that’s going to fix what he said. “You think writing a book was going to make everything better?”

Stiles’ brain keeps jumping from one thing to another. From Maisie, to Derek, to love and then the book. He chooses to focus on the book because that’s the easiest conversation.

“So you’ve seen the book?” Stiles asks a little excited.

“Of course we’ve seen the book,” Derek huffs sitting back down in his chair. He runs his hands over his scraggily beard looking resigned. “It was the only one in the book store that Maisie hadn’t read yet.”

“Did she like it? Did you like it?” Stiles asks moving closer to the chair opposite Derek’s desk, resting his hands on the back of it.

“You’re not seeing her – Maisie,” Derek changes the topic.

“I guess I figured as much,” Stiles admits.

“She loves that stupid fucking book,” Derek huffs again, “she’d carry it everywhere with her.”

Stiles beams, because this is a conversation he can easily have. “Did you like it?”

“It was okay,” Derek shrugs.

The little shit, but Stiles just smirks because if he knows Maisie he knows that she’s made Derek read it. Stiles may not have got his ‘apology accepted’ like he so desperately wanted, but he did get his sorry out and that’s enough for now at least. For Derek to know that Stiles is truly sorry. His heart warms at knowing that Derek and Maisie have seen the book, to know that Maisie loved it. He makes himself ignore what Derek said about falling in love because he doesn’t know what would hurt worse. To know that Derek _does_ love Stiles but isn’t going to do anything about it, or for Derek to have said it as a slip of the tongue and not meant it at all. Either way, it doesn’t end well.

“I’m going to get going,” Stiles points his thumb behind him towards the door, “thanks for not actually killing me. And just – I just hope you know my apology is genuine and everything I told you about myself was true and Maisie, you both, helped me in so many more ways than you guys can imagine. And I’m sorry the way it all unfolded.”

Stiles walks towards the door, his hand on the handle about to open it when Derek speaks again.

“She’s more confident because of you,” when Stiles doesn’t turn around Derek continues, “she came to me saying she wanted to go to a day camp. She never would have done that if she hadn’t met you.”

“She knows she has a dad that would pick her up in a heartbeat, tear the world down to make her happy – that’s enough to give anyone the confidence they need,” Stiles replies turning around. “It’s the same thing that gave me the confidence in myself to get better.”

“Are you heading home, back to LA?” Derek stands up when Stiles steps out of the door, back out into the reception area. Rebecca isn’t being all that subtle as she eyes the both of them, pretending to type away on the computer.

“I thought I’d stick around a few days,” Stiles puts his hands in his pockets, scuffing his feet on the ground, “to go see Deaton and stuff. Don’t worry; I’ll stay away so I don’t bump into you and Maisie.”

Stiles’ eyes land on the vending machine and he sees where there used to be Gobstoppers, in its place is nothing. Where every other slot is filled with different candies.

“Did you – would it be okay if I saw you tomorrow?” Derek asks quietly falling in to step beside Stiles as he walks out back to his car, and Stiles doesn’t know why Derek is the one that looks shy and nervous. If anything it should be Stiles feeling nervous.

“I’m staying at the motel down Reservoir street but I have my car, I can meet you wherever is good for you.”

“Maisie is at camp until 8 in the evening so around 5 when I finish work, at the diner?”

“Okay,” Stiles nods his head.

“Alright,” Derek nods his head in reply.

Stiles doesn’t give it too much thought, that Derek wants to see him again but he can’t help it. He has a smile on his face when he gets back in the car on his way to see Deaton. He doesn’t put too much stock into it though, maybe Derek needs time to compose himself and get out everything he needs to say that he couldn’t today. Either way, Stiles gets to see Derek again and that’s something.

**

His visit to the Lodge went better than expected – going by the way he was greeted by everyone. Erica punches him in the arm tells him it’s good to see him, to hear that he’s doing better. Boyd claps Stiles on the back and Isaac nods his head. They ask how Jackson is doing – Erica still making a joke about the two of them being together. Even Dr Deaton is happy to see him.

Dr Deaton leads Stiles into his office telling him to take a seat.

“I’m having Deja vu here,” Stiles jokes, “though funnily enough this time it’s not so intimidating.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Deaton chuckles and when he sits, he doesn’t open up his leather bound journal like he always used to. This time it’s a social visit, a check-up and there’s no pressure. Or, maybe Stiles has just gotten used to therapy sessions, talking to someone, and opening up to a total stranger, that it’s not even daunting for him anymore.

Deaton asks how Stiles is doing, if he’s been going to his new therapist, how long he’s been sober. Stiles is happy tell him everything, all the good news and the progress that he’s been making both with his sobriety and sorting out his own life. He tells Deaton about the book he’s written, the amends he’s made with friends and family. Then of course, they broach the subject of why he’s here – back in Beacon Hills – to see Derek.

“Do you think that’s a wise idea?” Dr Deaton stiffens slightly in his chair.

“Bit late for that,” Stiles shrugs, “I already went to see him. Don’t worry, he didn’t maul me.”

Deaton relaxes in his chair a little, crossing his legs. “How did it go?”

“Surprisingly well. He told me I couldn’t see Maisie, but I understand that. He told me that my book helped her become more confident. He uh, mentioned some other stuff,” Stiles blushes thinking back to the words ‘us’ and ‘love,’ “and he asked if he could see me tomorrow so I guess that’s a good sign?”

“I’m quite surprised actually,” Deaton mulls it over, “I knew you were enjoying your time with Derek but I obviously don’t know his side of the story, his feelings.”

“That makes two of us. But I’ll take what I can get at this point and no,” Stiles shakes his head before Deaton can interrupt him, “I’ve given it a lot of thought and time and it’s not dependency or co-dependency. I’m here because I _want_ to be, not because I feel like I need to be here to be okay.”

“I’ve never doubted your intelligence Stiles, I’ve just always been concerned about the front you put up, the sarcasm you hide behind. With that gone apparently, or at least for the most part,” Deaton smiles, “I don’t see Derek or you being here a hindrance to your progress.”

“Thanks. It means a lot to get your approval?” Stiles asks questioning himself, “Or at least your understanding.”

“Progress is progress Stiles,” Deaton stands up to shake Stiles’ hands.

So yeah, coming back to the Lodge, coming back to Beacon Hills, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

**

Derek doesn’t tell Maisie that Stiles is back in town; he’s not a complete idiot after all. Looking past the fact that Derek didn’t kick Stiles out of his office the minute he walked it, telling him to leave. Looking past the fact that he slipped up mentioning his feelings so blatantly though for Stiles’ part, he composed himself and didn’t broach the subject. And definitely looking past the part that he just asked to see Stiles the following day.

So maybe Derek is a little bit of an idiot and he’s probably getting himself into unchartered territory, but that doesn’t mean if this all goes belly up that he’s going to drag Maisie through his mess again. If he’s doing this, he’s doing this on his own until he knows what’s actually going on.

Instead, that night he goes about his usual routine as normal. He picks Maisie up from camp, makes her a late night snack and listens to her talk about what she did that way, and how much she loves it. Laura is on a date with some guy, Marco, and things are getting serious between them so she’s not here to hear about Maisie’s day but Derek doesn’t hold it against his sister, she does after all need her own life as well.

After he’s tucks Maisie into bed, much later that night when he’s in bed trying to fall asleep he tries to ignore the fact that he’s a tiny bit apprehensive and excited at seeing Stiles the next evening.

**

Stiles is ten minutes early when he gets to the diner which is a miracle, he’s always running late. One of the waitresses waves at him, remembering him all those times he came here with Derek as she leads him to one of the booths they always used to sit at. He tries not to fidget, picking at a napkin, shredding it to pieces and eyeing the door every time he hears the little bell ring.

A minute before 5 and the bell rings and when Stiles looks up it’s finally Derek and where relief should wash over him that Derek even decided to show up there’s also trepidation. Derek looks the same as he always does though this time he’s not in shorts or work-out clothes but jeans, a t shirt and a leather jacket despite the fact that it’s summer. Just like the first time they met in LA. He’s the vision of badass to anyone that doesn’t know he has a daughter.

“Hey,” Stiles gets up from the table to greet Derek. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, nod his head? Hug Derek? So of course the first thing that comes to mind is to hold out his fist as if to fist punch Derek.

Derek looks startled and slightly confused, staring at Stiles’ fist before he fist pumps Stiles back scrunching his eyebrows up. “Hey.”

“Sorry,” Stiles groans running his hands on his jeans, “I’m nervous and I have no idea why. Okay, I do know why but…”

“You’re rambling Stiles. Sit down, relax,” Derek nods his head to the booth sliding in across from Stiles. Stiles doesn’t know whether Derek’s actually relaxed or just a good actor but he leans back coolly against the leather booth, one arm resting on the back the other resting on the table. The waitress comes over placing two glasses of water on the table and gives them a menu each.

“Sorry,” Stiles squeaks making a grab for his water. Maybe some water will calm him down, stop him from sweating through his shirt. “How was work?” Stiles asks and then cringes – because work? Why doesn’t he just comment on the weather while he’s at it.

“Good,” Derek smirks taking his glass but doesn’t drink from it, just moves it along the table. “What did you do today?”

“Nothing. Stayed at the motel and did some work, Skyped with my best friend.”

When the waitress comes back over, they both order a glass of Coke and Stiles goes for his customary burger and this time Derek doesn’t go for healthy, he orders the same as Stiles. When Stiles raises his eyebrow at Derek, Derek huffs.

“It’s summer, I’m allowed to let loose a little.”

“Yeah I can see you’ve really let loose, you look like you’ve gained ten pounds,” Stiles replies drily. Because Derek still looks like the poster boy for health and muscles.

By the time their food comes Stiles has finally settled down a little. His stomach is still in butterflies but he ignores them in favour of the hunger that he’s feeling. Derek asks him questions, how he’s doing, what he’s been up to, if he’s in the process or writing any more children’s books. The one topic they don’t broach is Maisie and Stiles knows better than to bring it up himself before he ruins the good time they’re actually having.

When they’ve finished dinner and the waitress comes to collect their plates Stiles almost faints when Derek asks for two slices of apple crumble and a scoop of ice cream.

“Oh my God, I love you,” Stiles moans then widens his eyes. “I mean, apple crumble. I love apple crumble and ice cream. Can’t forget about the ice cream it really complements the… apple crumble. You know?”

“Stiles,” Derek sighs.

“I know, I know sorry –”

“I don’t know what we’re doing here but – I’m having a good time okay?”

“Me too,” Stiles gulps nodding his head. “It’s just been… weird not seeing you after getting so used to seeing you every day for such a long time.”

Derek nods his head and digs in to his apple crumble and ice cream. Stiles ignores the way that some of the ice cream trickles down Derek’s chin, getting stuck in his beard because then his mind wanders to leaning across the table and licking it. His mind wanders to running his hands through Derek’s beard and finally getting to kiss him. Instead he keeps his head down and focuses on his own apple crumble, which means he misses the way Derek’s staring at him with the same sexual hunger Stiles is feeling.

“When do you go back?” Derek asks as they’re standing outside by Stiles’ car. Derek left his across the street at the gym; there was no use in driving it over.

“I’m not sure yet,” Stiles shrugs, “I’m working on another story, inspiration just kind of hit me so I want to get as much done before I leave and lose it all.”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” and this time Stiles doesn’t miss the way Derek looks at Stiles. He doesn’t miss the way Derek’s eyes seem to darken, tracking every inch of Stiles’ face.

“Yeah, totally,” Stiles nods in a daze.

“I’ll pick you up at 8 at the motel,” Derek nods his head putting his hands in his leather jacket and starts to make his way back to the gym and his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They just need to bone already.  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	17. Chapter 17

Derek leaves the diner in time to pick up Maisie from the school where the bus drops all the kids off from camp. He’s in a good mood, and seeing Maisie just brings his mood even higher. She’s smiling from ear-to-ear running towards Derek and jumping into his arms. He scoops her up and spins her around asking her about her day.

“Can my friend Abby sleep over this weekend?”

Derek nearly drops Maisie startled from her question. Maisie has never asked for someone to sleep over, Maisie hasn’t ever even gone to someone else’s for a sleepover. This was yet another step in the right direction for Maisie.

“Of course you can,” Derek beams. “We’ll have to go shopping and buy lots of treats.”

Yeah he’ll go all out buying junk food and DVD’S and whatever else other little girls love to do at sleepovers.

By the time they get home Maisie is yawning, tired from a busy day and skips out on her late night snack. Instead she changes and snuggles on the couch watching a documentary. Laura’s in her room getting ready for another late dinner date when Derek knocks on the door and tells her about Maisie’s sleepover. Laura beams just as bright as Derek.

“Also,” Derek hedges rubbing his hand on the back of his neck sitting down on Laura’s bed. Laura stops putting her mascara on in the bathroom and stops to lean against the doorjamb to listen to Derek. “Do you think it would be possible you could watch Maisie tomorrow night?”

“Oh, you had me nervous there for a sec,” Laura raises her eyebrow. “Of course I can look after her. Marco is on a late night shift at the hospital. Big plans?”

“Something like that.”

“Okay, spill it baby Hale,” Laura gives up on applying the rest of her makeup. Only one of her eyes has eye shadow and mascara, the other eye perfectly bare.

“Stilesisbackintown,” Derek mumbles it all out.

“Sorry what now?” Laura sits beside her brother looking at him like he’s crazy.

“Stiles is back in town,” Derek whispers as if Maisie could possibly hear him from all the way downstairs.

“And you’re going to kick his ass and hang him out to dry? Good, I can get behind that.”

“I’m having dinner with him.”

“No you’re not,” Laura looks shocked twisting so she can face Derek. “Because that is the single most stupid thing you’ve ever said. Even more stupid than when you were little and said you wanted to be in a boy band.”

Derek huffs because that was _one_ time he wanted to be in a boy band. It’s not his fault New Kids on the Block made it look awesome. He also didn’t have the voice to actually be in a boy band.

“Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?” Laura sighs. “You got away from a rough life of underground fighting and drinking. And now you want to go on a _date_ with an alcoholic.”

“It’s -”

“- If it were just about you I’d say go forth and be a dumbass but you have Maisie to think about.”

“She doesn’t know,” Derek concedes. “I’m seeing where this goes before I tell her anything, _if_ I tell her anything.”

“I’m not your mother,” Laura exhales. “But I am your big sister and I feel obligated to look out for you. But your life is your life. I’ll still look after Maisie tomorrow night.”

“Thanks Laur.”

**

Derek parks his sleek Camaro outside the motel and realises that he doesn’t actually know what room Stiles is in and doesn’t have his number. He doesn’t even know if Stiles would use his real name when he checked in or go for something inconspicuous because at the end of the day, he is still a celebrity even if he’s not on TV anymore.

He doesn’t have to worry about it too much longer when he sees one of the motel doors opening and Stiles steps outside. He’s in a pair of causal shoes, pressed khaki’s and a button up shirt. Derek gets out of the car to wave Stiles over.

“Whoa you look nice,” Stiles halts where he’s standing to look down at his own clothes. Derek tries not to blush and thanks God for his beard so that it hides most of it. “Should I change? I don’t really have anything fancier.”

“No it’s okay,” Derek shakes his head, “I thought we could have dinner at Antonio’s it’s –”

“Oh my God! Jackson used to spend his activity time there. He and Antonio are opening up a new restaurant in San Francisco. That sounds awesome,” Stiles grins sliding into the passenger seat with such ease.

When they get to the restaurant Antonio greets them immediately instead of one of the hostesses and guides them towards the back of the restaurant away from the hustle and bustle. He tells Stiles it’s nice to finally meet him, he’d heard a lot about him from Jackson. So it’s a relief when instead of saying a bottle of champagne is on the house, he brings over a non-alcoholic bottle because Antonio knows Stiles’ and Jackson’s situation.

“Royal treatment,” Stiles grins sitting at the fancy cloth covered table.

Stiles doesn’t dare order the seafood dish that Jackson had made for him because although Antonio was the one that probably taught Jackson, Stiles thought it would be cheating. Instead opting for a simple fettuccine Bolognese while Derek orders a pork belly Porchetta.

It’s nice to be in a busy restaurant, out in public but somewhere different than the juice bar or the diner. Although they had good times there, it felt reminiscent of their former relationship, a personal trainer- client relationship. Now, this isn’t necessarily a _romantic_ relationship – at least not transparently – but it’s _something_ different than what they used to be. It’s a fresh start. This time, Derek doesn’t hold back from talking about Maisie. He tells Stiles all about Maisie going to camp, about her wanting to have an honest to God sleepover with another girl. It’s a hell of a change than who she used to be a year ago and it’s all for the better.

Derek watches the way Stiles instantly brightens up at the mention of Maisie, the way his eyes light up and he sits up straighter leaning forward across the table as if to get closer to Derek. He asks what else Maisie has been up to, does she still play lacrosse? Does she still like all things Navy related? Derek learns just how much Stiles knows about Maisie and where it used to scare him, makes his blood boil over – now it’s the single best thing he hears come out of Stiles’ mouth.

Antonio is a gem because he doesn’t charge them a single penny for their meal and tells them that they’re free to come back anytime. Derek has known Antonio for years but he’s never gotten a free meal so he must really like Jackson and by extension Stiles to get a free meal.

“Tonight was fun,” Stiles breaks the silence in the car. They’re parked in the motel parking lot and Stiles is still in Derek’s car. He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns in his seat leaning against the car door so he can face Derek. “Thanks.”

“I had a good time too,” Derek admits.

“Good, I –” Stiles’ eyes moves down to Derek’s lip, narrowing in. “I just want to – can I?” Stiles leans on hand resting on the centre console the other resting on the handle of Derek’s door. He moves slow enough for Derek to know what’s about to happen, give him enough time to move his head just that millimetres away from Stiles. Derek doesn’t move away.

Stiles brushes his lips against Derek’s, closed lips. But then Derek’s hand is gripping the front of Stiles’ shirt and Stiles has to steady his hand on Derek’s thigh as Derek opens up, letting Stiles get his fill of exploring Derek’s mouth.

Derek hums against Stiles’ mouth and Stiles pulls away slightly, their faces still smushed together, both cramped in the tiny car. “Sorry?” Stiles tries.

“Don’t be,” Derek snakes his arm around trying to pull Stiles closer but it’s just not possible. Stupid Camaro be damned, Derek should have definitely driven the Toyota. Then again, there is a bed a few meters away from them, shut behind a door, where there’s privacy. Where they wouldn’t be stuck in a car, in a parking lot where anyone can see. “This isn’t working,” Derek huffs as Stiles tries to untangle himself from Derek’s grip.

“Tell me about it,” Stiles snorts settling back in his seat. His face is flushed red and his breaths are coming in fast and heavy – and Derek knows the feeling. He’s feeling the same thing right about now.

“If we – if we do this,” Derek closes his eyes resting his head against the headrest trying to regain his train of thought. “It’s just me and you at first. I don’t want Maisie to know about us, to get her hopes up.”

“Yeah no, I totally understand that,” Stiles nods. “Believe me the last thing I want is for her to get hurt. I’d rather die than hurt her ever again.”

Derek groans shutting his eyes tighter because it shouldn’t be such a turn on, so hot to think about the love that Stiles has for Maisie. Because Derek never thought in a million years he’d ever meet someone that would get along so well with Maisie, that could get Maisie to open up.

“Did you want to come in?” Stiles asks trying to go for casual. “I understand if you want to take things slow or if you need to get back home.”

“Maybe for a little while,” Derek hums in agreement taking the keys out of the ignition and getting out of the car. He laughs when he sees Stiles twisting his neck one way and then the other trying to get rid of a crick. It really isn’t as exciting to make out in a car when you’re not in high school anymore, sneaking away in your parent’s car.

The second that they’re inside, Derek feels like his restraints just falls away. Stiles looks good in his khakis and the buttoned up shirt but Derek is more interested in knowing what’s under there. He pushes Stiles against the door lightly, crowding Stiles. Stiles’ breathe hitches but his pupils dilate.

Derek closes a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck, tiling Stiles’ head to the side. His lips find the side of Stiles’ neck, sucking lightly, running his lips up Stiles’ neck and along his jaw. Stiles’ fingers find Derek’s pants, his fingers hooking into the waistband of the jeans and pulling, ever so lightly.

“Wanted to do this for a long time now,” Derek says into the hollow of Stiles’ collarbone. His fingers deftly start to undo each of Stiles’ buttons starting from the top down. He runs his lips, chasing after every inch of freshly exposed skin. Stiles’ skin feels hot on his lips, soft and sprinkled with chest hair. Stiles only moves his hands away from Derek’s pants so that Derek can push the shirt off of Stiles and then Stiles’ hands are back on Derek’s pants trying to undo the buttons and Derek’s lips find Stiles’ nipple.

“Wanted you to do this for such a long time,” Stiles hums when Derek closes his mouth over Stiles’ nipple. He sucks and licks at them until they both harden. “You. Too much clothes.”

They haven’t even gotten very far and Stiles is already starting to become incoherent. Derek is quite smug about that as he pulls away from Stiles’ nipple so he’s back to standing at the same height as Stiles.

“Better fix that then,” Derek challenges. He likes the way Stiles’ hands feel unbuttoning his pants, his thumb hooking into the waistband to pull them down, Derek kicking off his shoes. Derek helps Stiles out by unbuttoning his own shirt and shoves it off.

“Better fix that then,” Stiles mimics with a funny face pushing at Derek playfully towards the bed. “We’re not at the gym Derek. You’re not the one in charge anymore.”

“Oh?” Derek huffs sitting down on the bed when Stiles shoves hard on Derek’s shoulder pushing him down. Derek pushes himself farther up the bed. Stiles undoes his own pants, kicking them off.

“Oh is right,” Stiles crawls up after Derek’s body, legs on either side of Derek’s hips.

Stiles turns Derek’s head to the side running his wet lips around the shell of Derek’s ear. “Maybe I’ll show you what a real workout it like,” then bites down on the lobe of Derek’s ear pulling lightly. Derek’s hips lift up, his hands settling on Stiles’ hips.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Derek rumbles but they both know Derek is already turned on, already intrigued if the way his body is reacting is any indications.

Stiles’ mouth finds Derek’s and they kiss for a few minutes, getting lost in each other, hands roaming any part of exposed skin available, breathing in to each other’s mouths. Stiles scrapes his teeth over Derek’s beard, along his jaw, liking the way Derek’s facial hair tickles him.

When Stiles’ hands reach down to trace over Derek’s outlined cock in his underwear, feeling it harden they both moan into each other’s mouths.

“I don’t have anything,” Stiles groans, resting his forehead against Derek’s. “This isn’t where I thought this would be going. As much as I might have imagined and dreamed about it.”

“It’s okay,” Derek reassures Stiles bringing his hands up to cup either side of Stiles’ face. “We can do other stuff tonight.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles agrees. He rolls over to the other side of the bed pulling his own underwear down. Derek goes to take his own off but gets distracted when he sees all of Stiles for the first time.

The way Stiles’ cock lays against his belly, pre come sticking to his happy trail and Derek wants nothing more than to lick it away. Stiles turns his head smiling at Derek when Derek’s eyes are still fixed on Stiles’ cock.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Derek groans, because – cheesy. But he still lifts his hips up and pulls down his own underwear. Derek watches the way Stiles is now staring at him, the way Stiles’ hand move to Derek’s dick, taking in his hand. Not to jerk him off, just to touch, just to feel.

Stiles retakes his position, straddling Derek. Both their breaths hitch as their cocks slide together for the first time, pre come mingling together.

Derek licks a stripe up his hand and takes a hold of both of their cocks. He starts to jerk them off slowly, relishing in the way Stiles’ hips jerk forward into his grip, fucking himself into Derek’s hand.

“You okay?” Derek murmurs when Stiles’ hands are on either side of Derek’s head shaking. He can’t tell whether Stiles is shaking because he’s close, because he’s struggling to hold himself up or if he’s overwhelmed. Derek takes his free hand to touch the side of Stiles’ neck, trying to ground him, and then moving his hand to push Stiles’ sweat-slicked hair back.

“Good,” Stiles gasps repositioning himself so he’s settled back on Derek’s thighs.

Stiles runs his hands over Derek’s chest, down his abs, back up to his face just having his fill of touching.

“Close,” Derek pants his grip becoming tighter around the both of them starting to pump harder.

Derek comes first, his abs quivering under Stiles’ touch as his come lands on his stomach. Stiles smears it around his stomach as if he’s in awe.

Derek’s too sensitive to keep stroking himself as well as Stiles, letting go of his own cock and focusing solely on Stiles. He twists his hands, trying to find the right spots that Stiles likes, his other hand on Stiles’ hips.

“C’mon Stiles,” Derek whispers when Stiles tries to hide his face in Derek’s neck making it harder for Derek to get Stiles off. “You can have this, you’re allowed to,” he keeps whispering.

Stiles whimpers, seizing up as he comes, mixing in with Derek’s drying come on Derek’s stomach. Derek moves where his hand is trapped between his and Stiles’ body wiping the excess come on the sheets. Stiles’ face is still hiding in Derek’s neck, wet pants on his shoulder.

Derek rests one hand on the curve of Stiles’ ass the other rubbing up and down Stiles’ back waiting for him to calm down. His fingers trace idle patterns against Stiles’ back, feeling Stiles shiver, the way Stiles’ breathing and pants start to calm down.

“You with me?” Derek whispers turning his head trying to see Stiles.

“Sorry,” Stiles snivels moving his head from Derek’s neck to look at Derek.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Derek repositions Stiles so that he’s laying half on him and half on the bed so that Derek can really see Stiles’ face. “You’re allowed to have this, to be happy,” Derek says running his thumb along Stiles’ face, in the hollows of his eyes. Stiles’ eyes are tinged red, as if he’s trying to hold back tears.

“I swear I’m not usually this emotional during sex,” Stiles tries to joke planting a kiss on Derek’s chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek reassures Stiles. “It was amazing.”

Stiles nods his head in agreement closing his eyes.

They doze off for a little while not getting much sleep but enough so that they’re well rested. Eventually Stiles gets up walking towards the bathroom and coming back with a towel. He cleans the dried, smeared come off of Derek’s chest and tosses the towel back in the bathroom.

“Do you have to go?” Stiles asks settling in beside Derek.

“Yeah,” Derek exhales, running his hands through Stiles’ hair again. “Laura’s looking after Maisie but I didn’t ask her for an overnighter.”

“Hey it’s all good,” Stiles smiles, “I know you’re not running off just to get away.”

After Derek’s dressed, Stiles choosing to stay naked because he’s going to need a shower anyway, they kiss at the door. It’s nothing filthy, just brushes of lips against lips both not wanting Derek to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Derek asks.

Stiles nods his head, hiding behind the door as Derek opens it to step outside.

**

Laura narrows her eyes the minute Derek walks inside this late at night and heads straight for the stairs. He doesn’t even bother greeting Laura, where she’s sitting on the chair watching TV. It’s late enough that Maisie will have already gone to sleep, having camp the next morning.

Once Derek is out of the shower he contemplates whether he should just hide in his room so he doesn’t have to see Laura. But he knows that, that’s just him chickening out, not to mention this is _his_ house and he shouldn’t have to hide in his own bedroom. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and sits down beside Laura waiting for a lecture.

Of course, Laura never does what Derek expects. She waits until it’s a commercial, turning down the volume to look at Derek.

“As long as you know what you’re getting in to, I’m here. For you, and for Maisie, always. Not for him.”

“I know Laur, thanks.”

“Just remember that when I have kids one day and need a babysitter,” she smirks turning the volume back up on the TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so they boned - kinda. But they're adults and have needs so yeah.  
> But that doesn't mean that they're magically together and everything is perfect, they still have issues to get through.  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	18. Chapter 18

Stiles eventually has to go back to reality. He’s still got a life back in LA, an apartment with a comfy bed that isn’t a cheap motel one. By the time the weekend rolls around, Derek is going to be busy with Maisie and her sleepover and Stiles knows there’s no point in sticking around doing nothing.

They get to spend one more day together, Derek playing hooky from work so that they can drive to the next town over and spend the day together. They have lunch, walk around for a little while, not at all shy to share a few brief kisses – stopping before it gets too heated.

They promise to text and talk – having finally given each other their numbers – and to plan a visit for Stiles to come back. Maisie still doesn’t know anything, Derek saying he doesn’t want to tell Maisie until they know where this going. Whether they’ll work out while Stiles is in LA and Derek is in Beacon Hills. Stiles totally understands as much as he’d love to be able to see Maisie and talk to her.

**

“Do you think we have enough graham crackers?” Maisie asks as she unpacks the bags upon bags of candies and drinks Derek bought for her sleepover. It’s the second sleepover Maisie has had in the past two months and Derek is more than ecstatic.

“There’s enough to get us through a natural disaster Maisie,” Derek sighs. His counter is full of sugary candies and soda. He’s on the verge of having a heart attack and a tooth ache just _looking_ at it. But, it’s a special occasion. He doesn’t normally buy this much crappy food when it’s just him, Maisie and Laura.

“I just want to make sure we have enough,” Maisie pouts. She runs back to the family room to make sure the couches and coffee table is pushed out of the way so that they can fit their sleeping bags. Derek’s ordered a pizza as well so there’s no way they’re going to run out of food anytime soon.

Laura so kindly agreed to spend the weekend at home despite the fact that she’s been spending more time at her new boyfriend, Marco’s house. She thought it would be a good idea to have another woman in the house when the girls have a sleepover just in case they had a girl emergency or something.

Derek knows how to get gum out of hair, but he doesn’t know how to deal with whatever else it is that _actually_ goes on during a sleepover. Instead, Derek gets to cook himself a nice pesto pasta and lock himself in his bedroom with his TV and try to block out the sound of squealing girls as they watch TV and do each other’s hair.

When he hears that the girls have settled down, finally chosen a movie to watch he pulls out his laptop and opens up Skype. Derek sends Stiles a text message and tells him to get on Skype ASAP now that Maisie is settled in. It’s not like Derek even knew he ever needed Skype before, he doesn’t have many friends or family, and the ones that he does have all live in the same town. There was no way he’d Skype someone living in the same town as him, that’s just ridiculous. But Stiles is a few hours away and sometimes just talking on the phone isn’t enough. Not that a grainy webcam is any better but at least he can see Stiles.

“Are you kidding me,” Stiles splutters once their chat opens up and the camera focuses. “Are you _shirtless_ right now? And in bed?”

Derek shrugs because he hadn’t thought anything of it. He’ll be in his room for the rest of the night, before he becomes the uncool dad that keeps checking on his daughter to make sure she’s having a good time (despite in a few years’ time when she’s a teenager he’ll just become the _hot_ dad).

His legs are propped up on the bed and the laptop settled on his thighs, showcasing him propped up against his pillows, his face and his bare well-defined chest.

“I look like a slob compared to you,” Stiles groans. “And in my office. I didn’t know we were having a Skype date in bed.”

“We’re not having a Skype date,” Derek rolls his eyes. But the more he shifts the more the camera moves showing more of his body and it’s just not fair.

“Pretty sure that we are. Point that camera lower.”

“Stiles,” Derek blushes. Actually fucking blushes and it’s the cutest thing Stiles has ever seen. He wishes he were actually there in person to witness himself making Derek blush, so that he could run his hands, follow where the blush leads.

“C’mon,” Stiles goads grinning like an evil, evil man. “You said you’re in your room tonight. No interruptions.”

“Then why aren’t you shirtless,” Derek counters.

“Because you started this, so you have to finish it now. C’mon, point that camera lower.”

Derek groans but Stiles can tell he’s lifting the laptop anyway, so he’s going to comply. Derek holds the laptop above him, pointing it downwards so that Stiles can now see the full length of Derek’s body. He can’t see Derek’s face anymore, but he can see his arms in the frame, flexing as he holds the camera, Derek’s bare chest moving as he breaths in and out, and most importantly Derek in his black, tight fitting boxer briefs. Even with the grainy picture it’s enough to make _anyone_ drool.

“You should get naked,” Stiles suggest shrugging his shoulders as if he’s suggesting something casual, like going for a walk.

“You’re a bad influence,” Derek mutters. He settles the laptop beside him on the bed so that the camera is facing him, showing the long length of his body. His face is barely in the picture but Stiles can see his nose and mouth. Derek lifts his hips up pulling his boxers off and drops them over the side of the bed.

Derek doesn’t know _why_ he’s doing this, why he’s listening to Stiles. But he hasn’t seen Stiles in a few weeks beside short phones calls and briefer text messages. The spark is still there between them though, warm voices saying ‘I miss you,’ cheesy text messages with x’s and o’s. If this is the only way they get to be together right now – well then it’s better than nothing.

“I definitely miss that,” Stiles says breaking Derek out of his thoughts.

“Miss what?” Derek asks nonchalantly turning his face towards the laptop. He scoots down so he can fit into the frame as well as he can. He smirks as he wraps his hand around his cock not missing the way Stiles’ eyes widen.

“That,” Stiles groans resting his elbow on his table tiling his head to the side watching as Derek strokes himself. “I don’t even know what I want more. To wrap my mouth around that cock or have your hand working my cock right now. Your hands are huge dude. The way you used to wrap your hands around weights when we were working out. I thought I was going to blow my load right now.”

“Me? What about the way you used to eat your food. The way you used to suck on those damn Gobstoppers,” Derek grunts one hand going down to fondle his balls, the other pumping his cock, twisting his wrist just the way he likes. He spreads his legs, his leg jostling the laptop.

“Do you have lube?” Stiles asks. He shifts the laptop on top of his desk so that he can get a better look. When Derek nods his head Stiles continues, “use it. Open yourself up for me.”

Derek moans, taking his hands off of himself to lean over the side of his bed. The way he leans over, to rummage around in his nightstand gives Stiles a _perfect_ view of Derek’s ass on the webcam. Stiles wants to get well acquainted with that ass. Wants to be able to have Derek on his stomach, as Stiles pulls Derek’s cheeks apart so that he can eat him out. Stiles wants to be able to open Derek open just with his mouth, until he can fuck Derek’s ass just with his tongue.

“Fuck,” Derek breaths and Stiles didn’t realise he’d even said any of that out loud. Derek squirts some lube onto the underside of his hard cock resting against his belly. He shivers as he works the lube on to his cock making sure he’s nice and slick. He uses the left over lube on his hands, moving towards his asshole, circling.

“Yeah,” Stiles grunts and if Derek bothered to look at the camera he’d see Stiles’ hands moving below the view of the camera. He’d know that Stiles had his hands down his pants right now working himself. Derek’s too far gone though, with pleasing himself, just listening to the way Stiles moans, his instructions, to think of anything else.

Stiles’ face is all but a hairsbreadth away from the computer screen as if he’s going to be able to get through the laptop and on to Derek’s bed – which he’d given anything for at this moment. “Work a finger in Derek.”

Derek nods his head, his legs falling apart even more and Stiles can just make out Derek slipping one finger into himself. Derek turns his head to the side, towards the camera and groans. His eyes are shut tight, his hand on his cock stopping momentarily.

“No, finger yourself and jerk yourself off Derek. I want to see it all,” Stiles instructs. The microphone can easily pick the noises up from the both of them. From where Stiles’ hand is furiously working over his cock and from the squelching sound of Derek working his cock and fingering himself. It’s better than any porno.

“Wish you were here,” Derek rumbles working another finger in.

“Oh God me too,” Stiles gasps, “I want to be the one working my fingers into you. I want to have my mouth on your dick as I work you open right now. Wish I could record how amazing you look right now.”

Derek’s too far gone to take any more instructions from Stiles. How he just strokes his cock, letting his thumb slide over the head and back down. His back arching off the bed as he feels stimulated from two spots almost as if it’s too much but he doesn’t stop. He jerks himself off while working his three fingers in and out of himself.

“Come on Derek,” Stiles whispers through the compute. “Want to see you come all over yourself. Make a mess.”

Derek grunts planting his feet back on the bed, both his hands working furiously fast as he nears his orgasm. His hips bucking up into his grip and then back down on his fingers as it’s the most beautiful view for Stiles.

Derek stills, a moan leaving his lips, mouth wide open as he comes. Strips of come land on his stomach, up high on his chest. He keeps stroking himself until he’s got ever last drop of come out and writhing on the bed. Derek turns to the camera to see Stiles’ saucer eyes so close to the camera, he smiles a lazy smile as he smears the come around further on his stomach. He then scoops some up on his fingers and brings it to his mouth licking it off.

“Bastard,” Stiles squeaks. But Stiles can give just as good as he gets. He moves farther back from the laptop and lifts his hand up to the camera showing the come on his fingers. He smirks as he runs his fingers across his lower lips, letting the come coat it and then licks it off. His pink tongue darting out to scoop his own come off his lips saying ‘mmm’ as he goes.

“I really need to see you soon,” Derek growls.  

“You just had a perfectly good orgasm and you want more already?” Stiles jokes.

“No. Well yes. But I just want to see you as well. It’s been too long.”

“It has,” Stiles nods, “Go clean  up and then we’ll talk?”

Derek nods his head getting off the bed but leaves the Skype chat open. Stiles gets up from his chair and leaves his own office to clean himself up as well. Once Derek’s cleaned up and in a new pair of boxers he stops by his bedroom door to silently listen in and see how Maisie is doing downstairs. He still hears the movie playing and quite talking.

He should feel guilty or a bit bad considering what he did, especially with his daughter downstairs. But it’s not like he’s the first parent to ever have sex while their children were in the house. It’s not like she even knows what was going on and he knows Laura wouldn’t have interrupted him unless there was an emergency.

“I want to tell Maisie soon,” Derek admits when he settles back on the bed fixing his laptop on his stomach so he has a better view of Stiles.

“Yeah?” Stiles grins sitting back down in his office chair.

“I don’t know how to tell her though or what to tell her. Are we serious? Exclusive? How are we going to make this work?”

“Are you really using your daughter to make me open up about where this is going?” Stiles points an accusing finger at Derek but he’s smiling so he’s not actually upset. “Low Derek Hale, very low.”

“So?” Derek asks that same blush returning, looking anywhere but at the camera and at Stiles. “Where are we?”

“Not in the same bed,” Stiles sighs and Derek narrows his eyes at Stiles because they’ve already had their sexy time. Now is the serious conversation time. “I just meant,” Stiles laughs. “That I want this to be serious; it’s been a while now. I know that you have a life in Beacon Hills, Maisie is settled in there, and you have your gym. For me, LA doesn’t need to be home, you know? Sure my family is here but my job – I don’t need to be in any one place.”

“You’d move to Beacon Hills?” Derek asks look equal parts serious and hopeful.

“Of course I would. I could easily work from there and be with you and Maisie. Besides Dr Deaton said his chair was always open for me. I could continue seeing him since he already knows everything and I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to find AA meetings there.”

Derek just looks at Stiles like he doesn’t know what to say, like he’s trying to process it all.

“I’m ready Derek, ready to take it to the next step but I’ve let you take the lead on this one. You have Maisie to think about and I don’t want us to jump in and then get her hopes up just as much as you don’t want that.”

“Maybe next time you’re down we could tell her? Still take it slow and live separately but tell her we’re together. If that’s alright with you?”

“Hell yeah it is,” Stiles smiles. “I can sublet my condo here and use the money to rent somewhere there. Win-win.”

“Win-win,” Derek nods his head in agreement.

They talk for a little while longer, about everyday stuff. They talk about their plans for Stiles to come out here next time and look for a place for Stiles to live, and how they’re going to tell Maisie. They talk a little about Laura, who Stiles has come to learn isn’t his biggest fan – but that’s understandable. If the roles were reversed and Derek was the alcoholic Stiles has no doubt in his mind that Scott would be hesitant. That’s what family does. Stiles will have to win Laura over but he knows that it will take time.

**

Stiles and Derek decide that the next time Stiles visits they won’t tell Maisie – not yet. Instead, under Stiles’ suggestion that maybe they could spend the day with Laura if someone else could watch Maisie. Derek wasn’t expecting it but nodded his head, thinking it was a great idea but also the worst idea because he knows how Laura can be. So on a Friday night Derek and Laura are sitting and waiting for Stiles while Maisie is with Erica and Boyd.

“I don’t see why I have to do this,” Laura complains, they’re sitting in the local coffee shop, waiting.

“Because you’re my sister, that’s why,” Derek grumbles giving Laura his level-best glare.

“Making an idiotic decision. So what if you guys are working now, what if that changes when he moves here?”

“Weren’t you the one who told me not to live my life in fear or something?”

“Shut up,” Laura pouts looking exactly like Maisie that it’s adorable.

Stiles had just texted Derek saying he should be there in about twenty minutes. Stiles is here for the weekend and he and Derek are going to look at places for Stiles to live and maybe pay his first and last. They’re also going to tackle Laura and that whole situation. Laura grows impatient and orders her coffee and cookies before Stiles even gets there but Derek doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to rile her up or put her in a bad mood. It’s going to be awkward enough as it is.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Stiles says breezing in through the front door. He slides into the booth next to Derek giving him a peck on the lips, looking sheepish as he faces Laura. “Hey Laura.”

“Stiles,” she raises her eyebrow taking a bite out of her cookie, a rather angry bite.

“So we uh, figured it was time we clear the air?” Stiles asks looking at Derek.

Derek puts his hand on Stiles’ thigh under the table. It’s nothing sexual, just meant to be reassuring and it works as Stiles sags a little, moving closer to Derek. It’s hard enough meeting your significant others family, let alone when they’re already not impressed with you.

“There’s not much to clear,” Laura shrugs. “You two are already dating and apparently serious.”

“Well yeah,” Stiles nods his head in agreement. “But having your blessing or at least your understanding would make this a lot easier on everyone. I’m willing to answer any questions you have believe me I understand your scepticism.”

Laura looks Stiles over as if she’s calculating how genuine he’s being or if he’s just playing it up because Derek’s there. Then she looks at Derek, smiles her ‘I’m your older sister and about to raise hell’ smile before she speaks. “Maybe Derek should leave us alone for a little while, so we can talk freely?”

“Laura-” Derek warns but Stiles cuts in.

“No it’s fine, I’m fine with that. Give us a few minutes?” Stiles looks at Derek patting his hand on top of Derek’s that’s still on his thigh. He gives it a light squeeze and Derek nods his head. Stiles scoots out of the booth so that Derek can get up. He gives Laura a look before he walks out the door and leans against his car, looking off into space.

“I’d threaten you, but that seems a little immature,” Laura starts. “But I assume that if you two are as serious as you say, you know about his past with Jennifer – Maisie’s mother. Mase does fine without her mother, she’s stopped asking who she is a long time ago when she never got any Christmas or birthday cards from her. Quite frankly Mase is better off without her but I see the way she looks at other parents, longs for something like that.”

Stiles nods his head about to say something but Laura continues on. “She’s long since learned that our family is anything but ‘normal’ not everyone’s aunt lives with them, not everyone has a dad that likes both girls and boys. But Maisie is smart and young, she adapts easily. She’s also never met anyone Derek’s dated because it never got that serious. He dated a woman after Jennifer that wasn’t interested in kids, naturally that didn’t work out. Then he dated a guy that was _all_ about kids and wanted to meet Maisie straight away and wanted more kids. Derek was naturally, reluctant and it didn’t work out.”

“But I went and did everything backwards?” Stiles supplies when he gathers where Laura is going with this.

“Exactly. We all met you, and then Maisie started seeing you more while you were also seeing Derek. It got confusing for everyone didn’t it, and how did that end?”

“Not well,” Stiles sighs.

“I may not like you Stiles, but I also don’t hate you. I understand to a degree what you’ve gone through, with alcohol and everything and I sympathise with that. What I don’t sympathise with is how you played Derek and Maisie. At the end of the day if my brother gets his heart broken he can rebound he’s a grown up. If Maisie gets her heart broken, it’s just another notch for her, why can’t she have two parents like everyone else. You know?”

“It’s something I’ve talked a lot about in therapy,” Stiles begins after Laura stopped talking. “We talked extensively about Maisie and Derek and if I was just using them or if I genuinely enjoyed their company. And maybe in the beginning it was a little of both, but now it’s different. It’s been different for a long time and I love Maisie just as much as I love Derek. I’d rather cut my own arm off than disappoint Maisie.”

“I want to believe you,” Laura sighs. “Derek maybe isn’t the best judge of character but I trust in Maisie’s. She doesn’t open up to just anyone but she did to you and that means something. I’m not going to be that sister that doesn’t show up on Christmas because I don’t like my brother’s boyfriend. I’d like to someday get to the point where I can trust you wholeheartedly.”

“If there’s one thing I learned in therapy is everything takes time. I plan on sticking around for the long haul and you’ll eventually see you can trust me.”

“Then I won’t play the bratty sister card, or the ‘I’m the older sister and I’ll threaten you’ card. You’ve just got one chance to prove it with me.”

“Understood,” Stiles smiles, “Hug?”

Laura shrugs smiling, getting up and bringing Stiles into a hug. When Derek spots them hugging outside, failing to pretend he was staring off into space and not looking in the window waiting for someone to throw a punch, he pushes off the car and walks back inside.

“He can have a cookie now,” Laura says settling back down in the booth.

Derek takes that as a sign that things are moving in the right direction and he’ll take it. So they order coffee and some cookies while Laura has a refill of her coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	19. Chapter 19

“I don’t want to play lacrosse,” Maisie pouts. She’s sitting in the back seat of Derek’s family car - the Toyota - as Derek puts the lacrosse gear in the trunk. He’s even packed a few snacks and juice boxes like the good dad that he is. It’s Saturday morning and he told Maisie they were going to spend the day at the park. She was more than willing to go to the park, but she was against the idea of lacrosse. Derek was having none of it though.

“It’ll be fun Mase,” Derek tries and fails to get her excited about the sport.

“We can play badminton or something,” Maisie turns her nose up looking out the window. Badminton? Derek thinks no thanks.

Instead he gets in and starts the car driving off towards the park. He knows, just _knows_ , that Maisie is going to change her mind about the lacrosse game; she just doesn’t know it yet. When they pull into the park, it takes them a little while to find a spot to park because it’s summer and everyone wants to spend the day outside when it’s nice and warm.

He takes the lacrosse gear out of the car and Maisie refuses to help Derek carry any of it so instead he hands her the cooler bag, as she slings it on her shoulder and tries to carry it. They find a nice shady spot under a tree that’s far enough away from all the screaming children but still also close enough just in case Maisie wants to play with them.

Derek sets out the blanket, dropping the cooler bag on it just in case it decides to blow away. He leaves the lacrosse gear on the ground on the side; they’ll get to that later. He keeps looking at his watch but Maisie doesn’t notice. Instead she’s sitting on the blanket, leaning back resting on her hands with her legs stretched out watching all the other kids running around.

“I’d really like to play a game of lacrosse later,” Derek says absentmindedly a few minutes later taking a sip of his water bottle. Maisie scrunches her nose up at her dad and then turns her head away and looks back out at all the other children. “My friend is coming to visit and I hear he really likes lacrosse,” Derek tries again.

“Then you can play with him,” Maisie scowls, “I’ll play on the swings.”

“If you insist,” Derek sighs.

He tosses Maisie a pack of fruit snacks for her to eat before they play. She gives the yellow flavoured ones to Derek because she doesn’t like them and he gives her the purple ones out of his pack because those are her favourite. Just as they’re finishing their fruit snacks Derek interrupts pointing his finger a few yards away.

“Oh my friend is here, but since you don’t want to play lacrosse you can go on the swings now.”

Maisie sighs turning her head with a scowl in the direction that Derek’s pointing his fingers. Then she freezes, gasping as she realises who it is walking towards her and Derek. She abandons the fruit snacks on the blanket they’re sitting on, the few reaming falling out of the packet as she gets up and starts running.

“Stiles!” she screams and Derek has never seen her run as fast as she is right now in his entire life.

“Maisie!” Stiles yells just as loudly running towards Maisie. He bends down so that she can run straight into his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him.

“I knew you’d come back. I just knew it,” she sobs when she pulls away from Stiles. Her glasses are askew on her nose and Stiles smiles as she readjusts her glasses. By this time Derek is walking towards them, standing behind Maisie watching the way the two of them interact.

“I just had to make sure I was all better first,” Stiles says tapping Maisie’s nose. “You’re the one that said I could get better.”

“And you are better aren’t you?” she asks sniffling.

“Almost all better,” Stiles beams.

She squeals again wrapping her arms back around Stiles and hugging as tight as she can. Then she turns on her heels to look at Derek giving the best evil glare that she can muster – but Derek doesn’t think it’s evil, anything his daughter does is the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

“You and Stiles are friends?”

“We’re very good friends,” Derek nods bending down so he’s the same height as Maisie, “Is that okay?”

“Okay?” she screeches. “It’s perfect! I just knew you two could be friends.”

Derek laughs falling backwards as Maisie jumps on him to give him a hug and he squeezes her back just as tight. “What do you say about that lacrosse game now?”

“Okay,” she grins scrambling to her feet. She dusts the dirt off of her and runs back towards their blanket. She picks up her lacrosse stick and grabs the larger one, running past Derek and hands it to Stiles. “Stiles and I are on a team, you’re the goalie dad.”

“Ready to win Maisie?” Stiles chuckles tossing the stick around in his hand.

“Oh you think you can win?” Derek asks standing up. He raises an eyebrow at Stiles.

They make a pretend goalie net out of the blanket and the cooler bag. Derek stands in the net with Laura’s spare lacrosse stick that she never used. Derek should have known that buying Laura one was useless, only one of his girls was ever going to play.

Stiles gets the ball in his stick and tosses it towards Maisie who runs straight toward Derek and tries to take the shot. Derek catches the ball in his stick just as it’s about to fly past him, Maisie frowns and stomps her feet getting the ball back from Derek to try again. “Good try Mase,” Derek reassures her but she’s having none of it.

After a few times when she still hasn’t scored and even Stiles hasn’t been able to, she stomps her feet going back the few feet to scoop the ball up in her Crosse again. Then she brightens up and rushes over to Stiles.

“Remember our trick?” Maisie asks as she scoops the ball up in her lacrosse stick. She looks at Stiles in time for him to nod with a glint in his eyes.

This time when Maisie is running towards Derek at full speed, she darts one way and then the other just in time for Stiles to throw himself against Derek. Derek isn’t expecting for Stiles to be thrown against him and doesn’t have time to react. Derek goes falling to the ground, Stiles on top of him and Maisie tosses the ball into the net, scoring.

She shrieks in delight jumping up and down yelling, goal!

“Cheaters,” Derek mutters under his breath causing Stiles to laugh.

“Get over it big guy.”

Derek rests his hand on Stiles’ lower back rolling Stiles off of him and onto the ground. Maisie bounds up to them, looking down at them and she does her happy victory dance. She’s moving her hips, her hands in little fists as she dances in a circle.

“Stiles and I totally beat you dad,” she giggles.

“Oh yeah? What do you say me and you against Stiles then?”

“Okay,” she beams.

Stiles doesn’t even have a chance in net. Maisie tosses the ball to Derek who whips it and it goes flying past Stiles and into the makeshift net every time. Stiles doesn’t even have to pretend to suck to let Maisie win, Derek and her do a good enough job on their own.

“We’re the winners!” Derek chants picking Maisie up and running around in a circle around Stiles. Derek is so not above doing a happy dance.

“Yeah well I demand a rematch after snacks,” Stiles accuses throwing his hands up.

They sit back down on the blanket as Derek goes through the cooler bringing out sandwiches and more juice boxes for everyone to eat and drink. He hands Maisie her sandwich, an orange and her grape juice box. Stiles turns his nose up at grape so Derek has to give him his cherry juice. After lunch they play another round of lacrosse and once again Stiles loses and then they pack everything back up in the car. After that they go for a walk, Maisie holding her dad and Stiles’ hands as she chatters about everything.

“Can Stiles come over for dinner? Can we order pizza?” Maisie asks a million questions a minute, later in the day when the sun is starting to set. They’ve spent all day at the park and Maisie’s face is going to get stuck in a smile if she smiles any wider.

“If Stiles wants,” Derek shrugs and Stiles rolls his eyes punching Derek in the arm.

“Of course Stiles wants,” Stiles answers. “I’ll follow you guys in my car?”

On the whole ride back to the house Maisie twists around in her seat to look out the back window to make sure Stiles is still following them. She told Derek multiple times to slow down otherwise Stiles might get lost and they don’t want that. Derek agrees and slows down and if he goes any slower he’ll probably get a ticket – but at least Stiles doesn’t get lost.

Derek ordered the pizza while he was in the car so it gets there a little while after they get back to the house. They eat outside in the backyard on the patio table with paper plates and paper cups for their soda. It’s still warm enough that they only need the candles for light.

“Have you talked to Jackson? Is he okay?” Maisie asks over dinner.

“He’s almost all better too,” Stiles nods.

“Do you think he’ll visit like you did?”

“I’m sure we can get him on Skype one day if your dad says it’s alright,” Stiles nods. “Jackson’s busy with his own stuff too.”

Maisie starts to yawn, exhausted from a long day running around at the park, her eyes starting to droop. Yet she tries to stay awake, to stay with Stiles and Derek. When Derek suggests it’s bed time she shakes her head vigorously no.

“I don’t want to,” she whines. “I want to stay awake with Stiles. I don’t want Stiles to leave yet.”

“Tell you what,” Stiles bargains. “I’ll see you tomorrow if you got to bed. I promise I won’t leave again without saying goodbye.”

“Promise?”

“Pinkie promise,” Stiles holds out his pinkie and Maisie smiles holding hers out too. She gets off her chair and hugs Stiles good night as Derek leads her upstairs and gets her tucked in while Stiles clears away the pizza box and throws out the paper plates.

They don’t tell Maisie that Stiles is planning to stick around a whole lot longer. They figured her seeing Stiles today was a good start, they didn’t want to overwhelm her all in one day. But Stiles has found a small apartment in the centre of town that’s close to restaurants and Derek’s gym (which was a total bonus).

It was easy enough to find someone who wanted to sublet Stiles’ apartment in LA because it was in such a popular area so he has until the end of the month to clear his apartment and put the stuff he doesn’t need in storage. Understandably, Stiles’ father was concerned about Stiles moving to Beacon Hills and what it would do to his recovery but Stiles assured him that he was in good hands and Dr Deaton is there and he’s the one that helped Stiles the most in rehab.

Plus, Stiles said once his father met Derek and Maisie he would be a lot more at ease. But dealing with one thing at a time was enough and Stiles trying to win over Laura was a start. The last thing they needed was Stiles’ dad, Melissa and Scott down here on the same weekend to meet Derek. It would just be a cluster fuck for everyone involved.

“She passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow,” Derek laughs entering the kitchen.

“Busy day,” Stiles smiles. ”But she seemed happy right?”

“Are you kidding,” Derek snorts. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that pleased.”

“Good,” Stiles smiles.

Derek returns his smiles moving closer, caging Stiles against the counter. Derek kisses Stiles, slowly, their lips just brushing against each other for a few seconds before Stiles can’t take it and just dives right in. He smashes his lips against Derek’s, opening his mouth to taste as much of Derek as he can. Derek doesn’t hesitate after that, his hand resting against Stiles’ hips as he returns the kiss.

They eventually have to break apart because they’re smiling too much, smiling more than they’re kissing. They laugh and Derek places a kiss on Stiles’ nose just because he can, just because he’s giddy and in a good mood.

“Goofball,” Stiles jokes pushing past Derek grabbing the half full Coke bottle to put it back in the fridge. Derek smacks Stiles’ ass, earning a yelp. Derek shakes his head breaking down the pizza box and putting it with the recycling.

“Oh,” Stiles peeps standing in front of the open fridge, the bottle of Coke still in his hands. He doesn’t move just stands there blinking when Derek comes up behind him.

“Shit, I’m sorry Stiles,” Derek gasps taking the bottle of Coke from Stiles’ hand, chucking it into the fridge and closing it, like that’ll make Stiles forget what he saw. “I can’t believe I forgot to clear those bottles out, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry Stiles.”

Derek’s talking about the bottles of beer that are nice and cool in his fridge. The bottles of beer that he sometimes drinks in the evenings after a long day and just wants to relax. He had meant to get rid of them but it just completely slipped his mind.

“No it’s okay,” Stiles says blinking, “I mean I’m the alcoholic not you.”

“I still shouldn’t have had it in the house.”

“That’s not fair on you,” Stiles shakes his head running his hands through his hair. He walks away to lean back against the counter. “Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t. I mean my therapist in LA said that there were even some that went to rehab but then learned they could actually drink alcohol in moderations. Not that I’d ever try that, I’m just staying clear of it but what I mean is you shouldn’t have to stop drinking because of me.”

“Stiles if I had to choose between alcohol and you I’d choose you every time,” Derek replies so honestly moving towards Stiles. He places his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing his thumb along Stiles’ neck.

Stiles sighs leaning his head against Derek’s hand. “You shouldn’t have to choose though.”

“It’s not even a choice in my mind,” Derek leans in to brush his lips against Stiles. Trying to show him that alcohol will always lose when it comes to the two of them. More importantly Stiles needs to be able to show that when it comes to Derek, Maisie and alcohol, that alcohol will lose.

“I’m just saying, you know, if you ever wanted a bro night with Isaac and Boyd and go out drinking, I won’t mind. It’s just something we have to work on.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we ever come to it,” Derek says against Stiles’ lips. “There are other ways to have fun without alcohol.”

“I can think of few,” Stiles smirks.

Derek nips at Stiles’ bottom lip before pulling away. “Just a few?”

“Off the top of my head.”

“Sex fiend.”

“On the bright side that’s not what I meant to rehab for,” Stiles retorts.

Derek gives him a look but Stiles just smiles and shrugs it off. Derek knows that Stiles needs to be able to make light of the fact that he went to rehab. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t take it seriously but he also needs to be able to joke about it and move on. Going to rehab doesn’t define who is he, it was just a part of him and Derek understands that.

“I should get back to the motel,” Stiles sighs running his hands along Derek’s chest. “Get some sleep. I can only image the packed day Maisie has planned for us tomorrow.”

Derek snorts but doesn’t object because he knows as soon as Maisie wakes up tomorrow she’ll be asking when they can go see Stiles. He leads Stiles out the front door and to his car, where they make out for a few more minutes like teenagers trying to make it home before curfew.

“See you tomorrow,” Stiles whispers against Derek’s lips before he pulls away and hops in his car.

Derek can’t wait for the day that they can actually wake up next to each other in bed but he knows they can’t just jump head first into all of this. Baby steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo Maisie/Stiles, finally. Also, I'm thinking there should be 24 or 25 chapters in total - if all goes according to plan!  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	20. Chapter 20

“Why do you have a box of fortunes from fortune cookies?” Scott asks bewildered. This is what happens when you offer to help your best friend clear his apartment.  

“When I need inspiration,” Stiles shrugs, “Actually I really have no idea. I just started it and kind of kept up with it.”

Stiles is packing as much of his clothes as he can in suitcases and when that fills up he’s just going to shove the rest in a garbage bag and deal with crumpled clothes when he gets to Beacon Hills. When Stiles and Derek told Maisie the extent of their relationship she almost fainted from excitement. Although they were very clear when they told her that Stiles was going to be living in Beacon Hills, but not with them, she didn’t even seem to care all she cared was that Stiles was going to be sticking around.

“Well please don’t tell me you want to keep them in storage,” Scott says shaking the shoebox filled to the brim with old fortunes.

“No, I’m not a hoarder okay?” Stiles gives Scott a pointed look. Scott shrugs and dumps the contents of the box in a black garbage bag along with the other shit that Stiles seemed to have accumulated over the years.

“So, don’t forget about us,” Scott says casually now packing books into boxes.

“Scott bro, you’re family,” Stiles says forgetting about packing to flop down on his messy bed. “Besides Beacon Hills isn’t that far away so you guys can totally make the drive up there or we can drive down here. Plus, do you really think my dad is going to let me lose contact with him again?”

“Fair point,” Scott sighs lying down beside Stiles. “We’re all happy for you we just also want to make sure you’re sticking on the right path.”

“I am,” Stiles nods turning his head to look at Scott. “Besides you guys will be down to visit in no time.”

**

Stiles’ new apartment in Beacon Hills is now where near as fancy as his place in LA. But it’s large enough for a flat screen TV so he can watch all his shows, an extra bedroom to use as an office and it’s close to restaurants. Stiles is no Jackson, he’s no expert in the kitchen.

Maisie is ecstatic to learn that Stiles is going to be living in Beacon Hills, and that he’s going to be around a lot more. She’s practically buzzing, bouncing off the walls. She draws and colours pictures, signing them just like Stiles and Jackson taught her to do and gives them to Stiles as a house warming present for his apartment.

Stiles beams, cherishes them and they walk around his tiny apartment, leaving Derek sitting in the family room by himself as they find somewhere to hang the pictures. They eventually decide to hang one on the fridge so that Stiles sees it every morning, one in the office room so Stiles can see it as he works and the other in the family room so _everyone_ can see it.

Derek pretends to be upset saying that Maisie doesn’t draw him pictures anymore but Stiles and Maisie laugh saying that he has to suck it up.

Stiles and Derek spend their days during the summer a mix between spending time with each other (alone so they can have their sexy times), time with Maisie taking her to the park or a museum and sometimes she even asks if her friend can come. Stiles also gets to know Isaac, Boyd and Erica _outside_ of the rehab centre. They can’t go out drinking like they probably would have done but they don’t seem to mind when they all meet at a restaurant or at someone’s house. They don’t even order any alcoholic drinks and Stiles feels bad but they assure him it’s okay.

“Laura’s out, Maisie’s at a sleepover, this is a first,” Stiles kisses Derek the minute they enter Derek’s house. All the lights are off and there’s no movement in the house, it’s almost eerie because there’s usually _someone_ always home, a television on, running about, something.

“We should take advantage of it then shouldn’t we?” Derek smiles kissing Stiles back, pushing him against the closed door. His hands find Stiles’ hips, his thumbs pushing into Stiles’ hipbones.

Stiles leans his head against the door, letting Derek nip and suck at his neck. Stiles is so not above getting hickies like he’s in high school. It’s not like he has a corporate job to go to, he can work at home and hide it when he needs to.

“I don’t know if I’m down with sex in the front hallway though,” Stiles muses his hands running through Derek’s hair. “I mean if I didn’t have to come over when Maisie or Laura are here and look at this door and think about all the dirty sex we had then I’d so be down for it.”

“Do you enjoy killing the mood?” Derek mutters pulling away from Stiles’ neck, but a small smile tugs at his lips and his hands lace with Stiles, leading him upstairs.

By the time Derek gets his bedroom door closed Stiles is already tugging his shirt off and undoing his belt. Eager beaver much? Derek chuckles pulling his shirt over his head and pulls down his own jeans.

“At least we don’t have to rush,” Derek says walking up to Stiles. His hands start on Stiles’ shoulder, moving up to his neck and then cups his face. He leans in and kisses Stiles, letting his tongue trace Stiles’ lips before roaming inside. Stiles makes a noise, his hands gripping Derek’s ass and pulls him in closer.

Derek pushes Stiles down on to the bed; his body sprawled out on top of Stiles as he mouths down Stiles’ body. He lets his beard scrape against the sensitive skin of Stiles’ stomach, watching it turn a shade of red before he runs his mouth over it. Stiles just urges Derek on, his hands in Derek’s hair, petting at it, groaning in pleasure.

Derek mouths at the head of Stiles’ cock, getting it wet but not taking him down any further, enjoying the noises of protests coming from Stiles. When Derek grabs the lube, he slowly works Stiles open, listening to the desperate pleas from Stiles, wanting more, _more._ Derek works Stiles open, three fingers in until Stiles is a wriggling mess on the bed, his mouth open, and cheeks flushed red.

Stiles’ hands are roaming up and down his chest because he can’t stay still. Every time he tries to jerk himself off, Derek moves his hand away, threatens to hold Stiles down and it only spurs Stiles on more until he’s a begging mess.

“Did you miss the part where I said we don’t have to rush?” Derek murmurs as he makes his way up Stiles’ body and onto the bed. He pushes Stiles on to his side, Derek getting behind him like they’re going to spoon, one of his arms under Stiles’ side, so his hand can rest on Stiles’ chest.

“Are you that old that you can’t get it up again in an hour or so?” Stiles counters.

Derek huffs smacking Stiles’ ass lightly, liking the way his red handprint lingers for a few minutes before fading away.  Derek slicks his dick up, nudges Stiles’ leg so that they’re not directly on top of each other anymore, Stiles hooks his leg backwards behind Derek’s knee.

Derek pushes in slowly, leaning up as much as he can to watch as Stiles tips his head back, his eyes closed. Stiles tangles his hand with the hand Derek has resting on Stiles’ chest. Stiles pushes back the tiniest bit so that Derek’s fully in him.

“Good?” Derek asks mouthing at the side of Stiles’ neck, not bothering to move just yet. Instead, he enjoys feeling the tight heat of Stiles around him. From this position, he can feel all of Stiles. Stiles tightly clenching around his dick, Stiles’ back plastered against his chest, Stiles’ hands tangled with his. It’s all Stiles, Stiles, Stiles and Derek loves it.

Stiles grunts not bothering with words in what Derek assumes as an affirmative. Derek smiles into Stiles’ neck and starts to rock into Stiles slowly. From this position it’s not the best to _fuck_ but it’s the best to feel each other, to rock slowly into each other and take their time. Derek keeps the slow rocks into Stiles, listens to Stiles’ silent pants.

Stiles finally gets to wrap his hand around his cock starting to jerk him off slowly with each thrust Derek rocks into him so that he can fuck into his hand. He takes it slow at first, matching the pace of Derek. Until Derek’s free hand makes its way to Stiles’ cock, wrapping his large hand around Stiles’ as he starts to jerk Stiles off faster. Stiles tries to simultaneously push back into the cock fucking into him, and the grip he and Derek have on his cock.

“Fuuuck,” Stiles drawls out his grip on Derek’s hand resting on his chest tightening.

“You’re so tight like this,” Derek says into the nape of Stiles’ neck. “I can feel you _all_ around me,” he groans.

Derek takes his grip off of Stiles’, letting Stiles jerk himself off as his hand wanders lower playing with Stiles’ balls.

Stiles mewls, jerking himself off faster and he knows he’s going to come soon.

“That’s it,” Derek urges Stiles on. “I want to see you come, see your come all over your hands.”

Stiles groans, twisting his wrists as he goes.

“Want to lick all that come off your hands Stiles,” Derek continues.

That’s all that it takes for Stiles to come, clenching around Derek’s cock and that’s enough for Derek to come a few second later, stilling his hips against Stiles’ ass as he empties himself in Stiles.

Derek stays in Stiles for a few minutes, bringing Stiles’ come-covered hands back so that Derek can take each digit into his mouth licking the come off with a wet pop.

“Ugh,” Stiles groans when he takes his now spit-covered hand back, wiping it on the sheets. “Am I supposed to find that so hot?”

“Yes,” Derek chuckles holding Stiles’ hips steady as he pulls out slowly.

Stiles is about to roll onto his back so that he can see Derek, but Derek pushes at Stiles so he flops on to his stomach.

“Dude,” Stiles whines and then turns into a garbled mess when Derek travels down Stiles’ body, his finger playing with Stiles’ loose hole, spreading his own come around Stiles’ asshole.

Stiles nearly chokes on his own spit when he feels Derek’s tongue on his ass. His hips bucking further into the bed, his hands scrambling to grab hold of _something_. The breath whooshes out of him, feeling Derek spread his cheeks and run his tongue over the hole, scooping up the come with his tongue. Derek’s _own_ come.

“You’re fu-fucking killing me,” Stiles whimpers.

Derek hums, his mouth still busy working the come out of Stiles’ ass. Stiles whines, his sensitive cock sliding along the bed sheets as if he’s trying to get hard again. His ass doing a push-pull away from Derek’s tongue.

Derek pulls away, a string of spit hanging from his mouth to inspect Stiles ass. He pushes one finger in, just for the fun of it, to see the way Stiles cries out and tries to clench around nothing when Derek removes his finger.

“Greedy,” Derek whispers crawling back up the bed to lay beside Stiles, his face inches from Stiles.

“You’ve officially corrupted me,” Stiles mumbles, opening his eyes to look at Derek. “Never in my life have I had _that_ done to me.”

“Rimming?” Derek asks raising his eyebrows, it’s not the first time they’ve done that.

“The whole rimming _after_ you’ve fucked me.”

“Didn’t enjoy it?” Derek asks smirking like ha already knows the answer.

“I more than enjoyed it,” Stiles hums. “Now, nap time.”

Derek snorts, considering they have the whole night to themselves, for once, and Stiles wants to nap. But Derek throws his leg and arm over Stiles, half covering him and tucks his chin on top of Stiles’ head. Derek drifts off to sleep listening to Stiles’ even breathing.

When they wake up later that night, they make a late night snack, sitting on the counter in their boxers and eating the cookies straight from the pack. Stiles jokes, pokes at Derek’s belly saying that he’s going to get fat if he eats one more cookie, until Derek chases him up the stairs.

Derek halts the play fighting the minute Stiles gets Derek up against the wall and drops to his knees. Stiles gets his revenge for Derek making him wait earlier by blowing Derek slowly, pulling off every time Derek bucks his hips. Stiles eventually gets a hold of Derek’s waist, holding him steady and sucks him off slowly until Derek comes down his throat.

Laura picks Maisie up from her sleep over at her friend’s house the next morning and when they get home Maisie comes running up the stairs and bangs on Derek’s bedroom door asking if Stiles is in there. Derek and Stiles try not to make a habit of sleeping over too often before it confuses Maisie but she doesn’t ever seem to care, and is instead very, very happy when she wakes up and sees Stiles around the breakfast table.

Although, it’s not too fun when there’s banging on the door at 9 in the morning on a Sunday and Stiles and Derek are naked. Thank God for bedroom doors that lock.

“Be there in 10 minutes,” Derek yells through the door. “Tell Aunt Laura to start breakfast.”

“Okay,” Maisie sing songs and they listen, her feet skipping down the hallway and back down the stairs.

Derek nudges at Stiles until he finally opens his eyes, groaning. “Sleep,” Stiles yawns patting Derek’s cheek. Derek huffs, blowing morning breath on Stiles’ face – there’s no sleeping in when you have kids, and Stiles is going to need to learn that lesson soon enough. Derek tells him as much as well.

“I need a fish bowl sized coffee cup,” Stiles yawns again, stretching as he gets up and looks for his boxers. He doesn’t even realise he’s putting on Derek’s boxers until they’re hanging too low on his hips. Stiles grumbles as he takes then off and flings them at a laughing Derek and finds his own pair.

When they get down stairs, Maisie is sitting at the kitchen table mixing the pancake batter while Laura heats up the pan on the stove.

“We’re making chocolate chip pancakes!” Maisie announces when she sees a sleepy Stiles and a messy bed-head Derek.

“Not that you two deserve any chocolate chip pancakes,” Laura mutters loud enough so that only Stiles and Derek can hear. Her eyes land on the now empty packet of chocolate chip cookies lying on the counter, crumbs everywhere, they’re caught red-handed.

“Derek ate them all,” Stiles pokes at Derek’s belly again and moves to the coffee machine to make a fresh pot for all the adults.

Laura shakes her head a small smile on her face as Maisie hands her the now mixed batter so she can pour them on to the griddle.

Thankfully, Laura has been warming up to Stiles. She’s finally seen the way Stiles and Maisie interact with each other and if she has any doubts about Stiles and his sobriety or what he wants – she can see that Stiles and Maisie’s relationship is the very definition of genuine and he loves her.

They all eat their fill of pancakes and a fruit salad at the breakfast table as Maisie tells them all about her sleepover and what movies they watched. It may be a strange version of a family but they all seem to make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, enjoy a long-ish chapter with feels all around.

Stiles gets the invitation in the mail a week later from Jackson. It’s a fancy black envelope with silver embossed writing and Stiles knows what it is immediately. The invitation to the opening of Antonio’s, the restaurant back in San Francisco. Jackson says that he can bring how many ever guests he wants just to RSVP with how many and he’ll set a table aside from them.

Stiles shows up early to Derek’s house, where they’re going to have dinner with the envelope in hand. He lets himself in with the key Derek gave him (and was that ever a step in the right direction) and calls out.

He bumps into Derek coming out of his office upstairs and Laura comes out of her bedroom all dressed up for a date with her boyfriend. Maisie comes running out of her room, running with her arms outstretched to greet Stiles. The effect of seeing Stiles showing up daily has yet to wear off on her.

“Hey Stiles,” Laura smiles heading down the stairs. “I’m just leaving I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Whoa wait, I wanted to talk to you before you go actually. You and Derek.”

“Oh?” Derek and Laura say in unison.

Maisie pouts at being left out of the conversation but Stiles tells her that he’ll come see her in her room and they can read the newest edition of National Geographic’s when he’s done. She nods her head and walks back to her room although she doesn’t look very impressed.

The adults walk back down into the kitchen where Derek’s going to start dinner soon. Stiles produces the envelope and puts it on the counter.

“Remember how I told you about Jackson opening that restaurant with Antonio?” Stiles asks looking at Derek. “Well I just got the invitation for the soft opening of the restaurant – you know the trial run? Anyway I thought we could all go maybe?”

Laura picks up the envelope and opens the invitation to look at it. Derek peeks at it from over her shoulder, his eyes scanning the invitation.

“All of us?” Derek asks.

Stiles nod his head and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you, me, Laura and Maisie.”

“Road trip!” Laura beams and Derek huffs because he remembers the last time he agreed to a road trip with his sister and his daughter. At least this time he’ll have Stiles by his side.

“Sounds good. Let Jackson know,” Derek nods his head. “I haven’t met him yet.”

“Oh you’ll get to meet everyone,” Stiles says and when Derek gives him a questioning look he continues. “I invited my dad, Melissa and Scott as well, so you get to meet them too,” Stiles rushes the words out and then runs upstairs like a scared baby to see Maisie.

He can hear Laura laughing, her heels clicking on the ground as she grabs her purse and heads out for her date. Stiles had his turn in meeting all Derek’s friends in an official capacity, meeting Laura and hanging out with Maisie again and now it’s Derek’s turn to meet Stiles’ friends and family. Fair is fair.

**

Derek should have known better than to think that having Stiles in the car – another male that was _supposed_ to be on his side – on the road trip to San Francisco was going to be any better. He sings, or at least pretends to sing along to the songs that Laura and Maisie want – more boy bands – and laughs, smiling goofily at Derek.

“You cheater!” Stiles screeches when he rounds the corner of the gas station building to see Derek. Derek has a cigarette hanging between his lips just about to light it up.

“Shut up,” Derek huffs lighting the cigarette anyway. He ducks out of the way when Stiles tries to grab it away from him.

“You’re on me about eating all that crap food and you’re _smoking_!”

“I stress smoke sometimes,” Derek shrugs in the so sue me gesture.

“That’s totally an extra circuit for you at the gym,” Stiles grumbles.

“I’d like to see you make me,” Derek snorts and Stiles shoots him a glare.

“We’ll see about that.”

When everyone gets back in the car to finish the journey – Derek more relaxed from his cigarette – he takes over the radio, ignoring everyone’s complaints. He’s _not_ driving the rest of the way listening to One Direction.

Maisie’s bouncing in her seat itching to get to San Francisco and Derek doesn’t know what she’s more excited about, getting to see Jackson (who she apparently just _loves_ ) or getting to go exploring. When Derek and Stiles sat her down and told her their plans she just about burst at the seams screaming that they got to go on an _adventure_.

Derek is excited for their ‘adventure’ as Maisie calls it but he’s more nervous than anything – and maybe, just maybe that’s why he needed the cigarette, and not because of Maisie’s taste in music. He’s fucking nervous to meet Stiles’ dad and best friend. Stiles has talked about them non-stop and Derek feels like he knows everything about them, but that doesn’t mean they know everything about him and it definitely doesn’t mean they’ll just automatically love him.

If they’re anywhere near as protective as Laura is over Derek, then he knows he has his work cut out for him. Stiles tried to reassure him over and over again that his dad will love him, and Scott will love him if he’s not a ‘dickwad’ – yeah those were Stiles’ exact words.

Stiles seems to realise that Derek is having an internal crisis because he rests his hands on Derek’s thigh, bringing him out of his daze, driving on auto pilot. It’s not meant to be sexual, just a reaffirming squeeze and Derek’s thankful for that.

**

“We’re going to Alcatraz, we’re going to Alcatraz!” Maisie sing-songs the next morning. They got in to San Francisco late the night before and decided to call it an early night at the hotel so they were up and ready to go the next morning. Maisie was of course the first one awake, getting herself dressed and dancing around the room ready to go – despite Alcatraz not even being open yet.

The minute they step on the ferry to get over to the island, Maisie starts pointing out every aspect of the ship and all the different parts. She knows port and starboard, even knows what colour represents what side.

Okay, so Derek is a pretty fit guy – no one would deny that. But after hours of walking around the island, from one end of Alcatraz to the other, Maisie wanting to see _everything,_ Derek is fucking exhausted. Despite being so young, Maisie doesn’t get scared while other kids cower behind their parents. She wants to go down to the dark shower areas in the basement, see all the jail cells and even the ‘hole.’

Stiles snaps about a million pictures, trying to squeeze Derek, Laura and Maisie into the frame and then holding the camera awkwardly so they can _all_ get into the frame when someone finally laughs and asks if they want her to take a picture of all of them. By the time the evening rolls around and they’re on the ferry back to the main land, Stiles’ memory card is full of pictures.

“Did you really need to take a picture of the water?” Derek laughs looking at the little screen on the camera.

“Yes,” Stiles rolls his eyes. “We need the _whole_ experience.”

“And that involved a close up of a toilet?”

“Maybe that wasn’t needed,” Stiles agrees taking the camera from Derek and deleting the picture.

When they get back to the hotel, Laura and Maisie go to their room to get ready and Derek and Stiles go back to theirs. Derek showers first and when Stile gets out Derek’s sitting on the bed fiddling with his tie.

Stiles rolls his eyes and walks up to the bed and fixes the tie for Derek. He leans down and kisses Derek just a slow kiss but he feels Derek relax almost instantly. Stiles pulls away so that he can get dressed as well because he knows any minute Laura and Maisie are going to be banging on the door.

“Relax,” Stiles reassures Derek. “It’s dinner at a restaurant where my dad and best friend will just happen to be. It’s not like it’ll be one-on-one and even if it was, nothing is going to go wrong.”

 “It’s just – we’ve been good lately, right?” Derek asks looking hesitant. “Meeting your dad, Melissa and Scott just seems like the final seal of approval you know?”

“I know it’s a big deal for you and I’d love for you guys to get along but you, me, Maisie – we’re good – they’ll see that and it’ll be smooth sailing, trust me.”

Stiles leans down to kiss Derek again, but Stiles falls on top of Derek so they’re sprawled out on the bed, kissing. Stiles’ smiles into the kiss, his hands fisted in Derek’s shirt as he opens his mouth, licking into Derek’s mouth. Derek gets his hands on Stiles’ ass, squeezing through the layer of pants and Stiles moans into his mouth.

Before things can get any more heated there’s a bang on the door. Stiles groans and rolls off of Derek so they’re laying side by side.

“Let’s go,” Laura yells through the door.

Derek huffs, standing up and fixing his shirt so it’s not wrinkled anymore. Stiles gets up doing the same and heads to the door.

“Shoes,” Derek points out and Stiles looks down and looks embarrassed quickly shoving his feet into his shoes before he opens the door.

**

The outside of Antonio’s is a hell of a lot fancier than the last time Stiles saw it. The building is freshly repainted so that there’s no more peeling, grimy paint. All the garbage and debris is cleared out of all the parking spaces and there’s new shrubbery. The Antonio’s sign is hanging proudly from the building, understated but still large enough for people passing by to see.

“Ready?” Stiles asks taking Derek’s hand in his. Derek squeezes Stiles hand; Maisie taking hold of his other hand and also holding Laura’s and enter the building.

“Jackson!” Maisie yells the minute they’re inside. She lets go of Derek and Laura’s hand and starts running through the restaurant and dodging out of the way of the other guests. Some of the guests try and scoot back, holding their drinks up so that they don’t spill it – some of them even shake their head but Maisie either doesn’t notice or just doesn’t care.

“Maisie!” Jackson yells right back bending down to hug her. Maisie comes crashing into him, her arms flung around his neck as she squeezes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too!” Maisie answers.

Derek’s hot on Maisie’s tail, dragging Stiles behind him so that he can see who exactly Maisie is running off to see. After all, his young daughter running to another man is a little frightening.

Jackson straightens up when he sees Derek and Stiles come into view. He smiles when he sees Stiles and nods his head at Derek. Before Stiles can get any introductions in, Maisie’s already at it.

“Daddy, this is Jackson. He used to play lacrosse, he’s _really_ good. Even better than you.”

“Anyone is better than your dad,” Stiles jokes as Maisie giggles and Jackson snorts.

Derek shoots Jackson an accusing glare but extends his hand to shake with Jackson. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Jackson nods. “I’ve heard a lot about you both from Stiles and Maisie.”

There’s an awkward, pregnant silence between the small group, people still chattering around them. Laura chooses to walk around the restaurant on her own mini tour instead of situating herself in the awkward conversation taking place.

“Derek, Stiles,” Antonio smiles coming up to them. He’s dressed in a nice suit and dress shoes. There’s a woman and two children behind him. “It’s nice to see you two again, especially at our new opening. Why don’t I give you guys the tour? And how about you Maisie, spend some times with my kids?”

Maisie peers over at the two children behind Antonio, a girl maybe a few years older than her and a boy about a year or two younger than her. Derek puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder, nods and she relaxes into the touch before she nods her head. Maisie runs off with the other two children, Antonio’s wife keeping a close eye on them.

“Antonio, why don’t you give Stiles a full tour while I talk to Derek?” Jackson interrupts.

Stiles freezes, eyes wide open as he looks between Jackson and Derek. He’s not quite sure what they want to talk about, if it’s good or if it’s bad and who would be the most likely to throw the first punch. Both Jackson and Derek roll their eyes at the same times, Stiles trying not to get _totally_ creeped out before Antonio is leading him away talking about the state of the art kitchen.

“So uh listen,” Jackson says looking anywhere but at Derek before he makes eye contact. “I was on Stiles’ case a few months about apologising to you about everything that happened. I owe you one as well. I didn’t know you, never met you until today but I was spending time with your daughter just as much as Stiles was without your permission and that was wrong.”

Derek startles for a second nodding his head. All that Stiles has told him about Jackson was that pretty much Jackson is a douche bag but you get used to it. This is not douche bag Jackson at all but maybe he only reserves that for people he knows and gets along with.

“Thank you. Thank you for also getting my daughter into sports, something I can actually relate to,” Derek cracks a smile.

Jackson snorts shaking his head. “Believe it or not your daughter had a pretty good effect on me. Playing lacrosse with her was just a bonus.”

“She seems to have that effect on people,” Derek says as he looks to where Antonio is animatedly talking to Stiles.

“The perks of being a kid,” Jackson shrugs. “They have such faith. Hey did you want a drink? I don’t know how you and Stiles work with the whole alcohol thing?”

Derek shakes his head no. “Don’t need it.”

“I’m the same way.”

After that Antonio and Stiles come back from their tour again and Maisie comes running up to Derek telling him that Antonio said that she and his kids could help make dessert later in the large kitchen. The last thing Maisie probably needs is a sugar overload, she already had a busy day at Alcatraz and now being out so late at a restaurant, but it is a special occasion so he’s willing to overlook that.

They mill around, drinking their glasses of water, and even Laura doesn’t even drink any alcohol. She’s sympathetic to what Stiles has gone through, _is_ going through, and even if other people are drinking around them, she doesn’t and Derek knows that’s her way of showing she’s being supportive. She’s being supportive of Stiles and his past, supportive of Stiles and Derek and supportive of Stiles, Derek and Maisie and that means the world to Derek. Laura knows it too if the way she pats his arm and smiles at it is any indication.

There are servers roaming around the open concept restaurant, with platters of appetizers. Derek’s busy shoving a piece of each of the new appetizers that pass by him when Stiles squeezes his forearm and nods towards the door. “My family is here.”

Derek freezes mid bite, scared that he’s about to choke on his food if he tries to eat it. Stiles snorts, grabbing the sausage roll from Derek and popping it into his own mouth.

“C’mon you big chicken,” Stiles mutters.

And okay, maybe Derek _does_ have a reason to be a little intimidated. It’s a lot more than just his dad, Melissa and Scott. Allison and Lydia are also in tow, dressed in sleek black dresses and sky-high heels and they look _amazing_ , like breathtakingly beautiful. Stiles doesn’t need to be straight to appreciate that.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Scott looks sheepish looking back towards Allison and Lydia. Scott separates from his mom and the rest of the gang to get to Stiles first – as workers take their jackets. “You did say it was an open invitation and when Lydia heard about a restaurant opening she just invited herself and by extension Allison. She said something about maybe writing a review or something at her PR firm.”

Stiles snorts shaking his head disbelievingly. “I should have thought to invite Lydia actually.”

“Hey,” Scott says looking at Derek. “It’s nice to meet you man. Heard a lot about you, mostly all good.”

“Scott,” Stiles groans running his hands over his face.

“What?” Scott grins. “I’m going easy on him, wait until your father gets here.”

As if on cue Stiles’ father and Melissa step up behind Scott and smile. Stiles’ dad is dressed in a nice suit and tie and its’ totally the opposite of what he’s used to seeing his father dressed as. Normally his father is either in his Sheriff’s uniform or if he’s at home he’s in a pair of jeans a t-shirt. Melissa looks beautiful as always, in pressed pants and a black blouse with a leather jacket over – a stark contrast from her nurses’ uniform. 

“Stiles,” Melissa smiles bringing Stiles into a huge bug. “You look good sweetie.”

“Melissa,” Stiles returns the hug squeezing tight. “Dad,” Stiles brings his father into a hug.

“Son.”

“This is Derek,” Stiles says as he pulls away from the hug waving in Derek’s general direction. “Yes you don’t need to say you’ve heard all about him, he knows. He’s heard all about you too. Like yes, he knows you’re the Sheriff, _dad_ ,” Stiles points out looking straight at his dad. “Not to mention we’re not exactly in high school so it’s not like you need idle threats and –”

“They’re not idle threats son,” Stiles’ dad smiles, his evil, horrible ‘I’m your father and I’m going to embarrass you smile.’

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Stilinski,” Derek clears his throat extending his hand. “And you Ms Stilinski?”

“Ms McCall,” Melissa clarifies. “Never changed my last name but nice to meet you all the same.”

“Nice to meet you too Derek,” Stiles’ father greets.

Laura is introduced as well, hugging Stiles’ father and Melissa as well and when Scott mutters something under his breath like ‘holy shit she’s hot,’ Stiles groans and Derek looks mortified. At least Scott isn’t going to grill Derek – at least not here. He can’t say the same for his father though.

“Hey Maisie,” Stiles smiles bending down when Maisie comes to stand behind Derek to see who her father is talking to, wanting in on the action. “This is _my_ dad, and this is Melissa she’s like my mom and this is my brother Scott.”

“Hi,” Maisie extends her hand like the polite little girl that she is. She fixes her glasses, falling down on her nose as she looks over Stiles’ father. “Does that make you my grandpa?”

Stiles hiccups, Derek chokes on his own spit and Laura takes a huge gulp of her glass of water. Scott looks just plain torn. Stiles’ father smiles as Melissa loops her arm around Stiles’ dads.

“I’ve never had a grandpa you know,” Maisie tilts her head. “Well I did but I never met them,” she looks to Derek and Laura looking sad. “You can be my grandpa, and you can be my grandma,” Maisie says looking at Stiles’ father and Melissa.

Stiles’ dad recovers quickly not nearly as gobsmacked as everyone around him. He bends down, Melissa bending down as well so that they can speak to Maisie.

“Does that mean I get to spoil you when it comes to Christmas?” Stiles’ dad asks and Maisie giggles. She leans forward to hug Stiles’ dad and that’s when Stiles’ dad looks shocked for a second before he’s wrapping his arms around Maisie as well. Then Maisie takes her turn hugging Melissa.

Antonio clinks a fork against a glass to get everyone’s attention and telling them to make their way towards the table because the meals are about to be served. Antonio ushers Stiles and their whole gang to a long table in the middle of the restaurant and they have to push another table up against it to make room for Lydia and Allison.

“So nice of you to make it,” Stiles says sarcastically as Lydia takes her seat.

“So nice you to invite me,” she arches her eyebrow at him. “So I had to take it upon myself.”

Stiles laughs shaking his head because yeah maybe he really should have invited Lydia and Allison. Having Lydia’s seal of approval on the restaurant could only be a good thing; she could easily send celebrities and high paying clients here and get the restaurant the publicity it needs.

“Who’s that?” Lydia whispers to Stiles nodding in Jackson’s direction.

“Who _is_ that?” Allison nods her head in approval.

“Jackson. He co-owns this place. He’s the one I met in rehab.”

“Is he clean now?” Lydia asks.

“Yes.”

“Single?”

“Oh no. No no no, Lydia Martin. No,” Stiles groans placing his napkin on his lap trying to distract himself from the look Lydia gives him. He can’t fight it, looks up and sees Lydia staring at him expectantly. “I am _not_ hooking you two up.”

Lydia scoffs taking a sip of her water. “Like I need your help with that.”

Derek snorts beside Stiles and now it’s Stiles’ turn to give Derek the evil glare. “You’ll pay for that,” Stiles mutters.

Dinner goes by smoothly, the restaurant is jam packed with critics and close friends of Antonio’s and Jacksons. It’s busy and loud so the focus isn’t entirely on Stiles or Derek majority of the time, instead everyone is talking over everyone, eating their food and genuinely having a good time. Stiles doesn’t miss the way his father looks over at where he’s sitting every once in a while, but when Stiles finally makes eye contact with his dad, his dad just smiles and that at least means Derek has passed phase one.

Stiles is taking a piss in the men’s bathroom minding his own business when Jackson startles him. They’ve just finished dinner and waiting for desert to be served.

“Jesus,” Stiles shrieks. “Trying to piss here.”

“Whatever,” Jackson waves. “We were roommates remember? Seen you naked.”

“Still,” Stiles mutters.

“Who’s the redhead that came with your family?”

“It’s strawberry blonde,” Stiles counters.

“Who is she?” Jackson throws his arms up.

“Not you too,” Stiles groans zipping his pants up and washing his hands. “Her name is Lydia Martin. She’s a good friend of mine.”

“Is she single?”

Stiles groans splashing water on Jackson’s face.

“Tell you what, why don’t you just go _talk_ to her.”

“I want to know if she’s interested in me first,” Jackson pouts. Honest to god pouts and Stiles has never seen Jackson do that before. Stiles can’t help but snort and double over in laughter.

“Are you kidding me? Jackson Whittemore too scared to go talk to a _girl?_ What happened to that bad boy persona in the Lodge?”

“She looks like she’d tie me down to the bed and enjoy it,” Jackson counters crossing his arms.

Stiles rolls his eyes and walks past Jackson towards the door to get back to the table before Derek’s mauled to death by his family and their probing questions.

“Not that I’d mind that,” Jackson muses.

Stiles groans banging his head against the bathroom door. “Just talk to her. Trust me.”

**

After dinner Derek needs a breather and decides to head outside to get some fresh air. The dinner and dessert was delicious, Stiles’ family so far hasn’t scared him off and even seem to be welcoming. Scott just seems glad to have finally met Derek and Stiles’ dad and Melissa are being kind, which is all he can really ask for.

“Need some fresh air too huh?”

Derek looks up, broken out of his own daze to see Stiles’ dad standing there.

“Yes sir,” Derek nods his head.

“Call me John,” Stiles’ dad snorts shaking his head.

John comes to stand beside Derek his hands in his pocket as they look out on the street, the cars driving by. They stay silent for a while and Derek’s mind is racing trying to come up with _something_ to say before John thinks he’s a complete idiot.

“Stiles seems happy,” John breaks the silence not looking at Derek though.

“I hope he is.”

“It’s just good to know that he’s doing better, on the right track.”

“He has been going to his AA meetings and therapy sessions,” Derek nods his head. Just reaffirming that Stiles is in fact on the right track. It’s one thing for Stiles to say he’s doing better, going to therapy but it’s another to have someone else confirm it.

“I blame myself for Stiles ever getting in this situation,” John sighs.

Derek sneaks a peek at John, turning his head slightly. John is tense beside him looking remorseful before he continues.

“I don’t know how much Stiles has told you about our past. But I didn’t handle losing his mother very well. He was so young, so _impressionable_ when I started drinking. I taught him that drinking was a solution, an answer to make problems go away.”

“But you got better,” Derek points out. “Stiles saw that, saw that you were an inspiration, living proof that you can overcome these things.”

“If I never started drinking in the first place, maybe he never would have gotten himself in this situation.”

Maybe John is right, maybe he’s not. Maybe if Stiles never started drinking, never went to rehab then maybe he wouldn’t be where they are today. Maybe Stiles and Derek wouldn’t be together, instead living separate lives. Having only met once that one time in LA and then going on without a second thought about the other.

Maybe if that drunk driver that killed his family didn’t get behind the wheel then they’d still be alive. Maybe if they took a different route they’d still be alive. Derek’s lived a whole life of maybe’s and he knows it’s no use in thinking about the maybe’s and what if’s – that doesn’t change what’s right here, in the now.

“With all due respect,” Derek says turning to face John. “I’m no expert in alcoholism or addiction but I do have friends who work at the Lodge. Blaming yourself for Stiles’ addiction doesn’t change anything, trying to take the blame away from Stiles doesn’t help him. Stiles is a big boy and made his own decisions, he’s taken responsibility for his actions now – and that’s what allowed him to get better.”

John regards him for a minute, eyes searching Derek’s face and Derek starts to panic. He thinks maybe he took it a step too far, shouldn’t get involved in the mess that used to be between Stiles and his father.

John shakes his head smiling, claps Derek on the arm. “You’re right,” John admits. “But you better than anyone understand what it’s like to be a father. You’ll always blame yourself for the problems your child gets themselves in. Always wonder what you could have done differently and want to fix all their problems.”

“Every day of my life,” Derek huffs.

“Must be doing something right. Maisie is the politest kid I’ve ever met,” John snorts.

“She didn’t learn it from me,” Derek laughs.

“I’m glad Stiles met you,” John admits.

Derek smiles at that, preening a little on the inside at having John’s seal of approval. It’s the last piece of the missing puzzle falling into place. Before Derek can say anything else, Stiles comes running out of the restaurant his eyes landing on Derek and his dad.

“At least you two aren’t in a brawl,” Stiles says eyeing Derek and his dad.

“Stiles,” John sighs.

And yeah Derek’s thinking the same thing as John at this minute.

“What?” Stiles says. “Totally valid observation.”

“Shut up,” Derek laughs wrapping his arm around Stiles’ shoulder and bringing him in closer. Stiles blushes a little, wrapping his arm around Derek’s waist and John laughs saying something about teenagers. Even though they’re _not_ teenagers.

They get to talk outside, John asking when they’re heading back to Beacon Hills, what they got up to today. John laughs telling them about Maisie going on and on about what they saw at Alcatraz and how Maisie on Stiles’ behalf offered for Stiles to send all the pictures to John so that he could look at them. Derek shakes his head in laughter because that’s exactly something his daughter would do.

A little while later Melissa, Scott and Allison come outside to see where everyone went. Laura and Maisie follow soon after hand in hand, Maisie talking about how amazing the dessert was and they have to try and recreate it at home. Jackson comes out after that, Lydia beside him their heads together as they chat.

“Finally manned up huh?” Stiles teases Jackson.

Jackson’s about to give him the middle finger when Stiles and Maisie yell at the same time.

“Money in the swear jar!”

Laura starts to hoot with laughter and Derek looks confused until Stiles explains how they kept up the tradition of the swear jar when they were at the Lodge. Derek can’t help but chuckle at that and John laughs, saying they needed that when Stiles was a teenager – even though it was Stiles who was swearing all the time.

“We’re heading out,” Lydia says reapplying her lipstick, nodding her head towards Jackson. Stiles groans resting his forehead against Derek’s shoulder and Scott whistles. Jackson looks like the cat that got the cream.

“Man,” Allison pouts. “Did Lydia really just ditch me?”

“We could go out for a drink?” Laura suggests. “It would be nice to talk to another female who’s an adult.”

“Sounds good,” Allison smiles. Laura bends down and kisses Maisie good night before Laura and Allison walk off towards the nearest bar.

“Now I got ditched!” Scott grumbles.

Melissa laughs petting Scott on the face. “Aw sweetie.”

“We should get going back to the hotel. Goodnight Stiles, Derek,” John bends down to place a kiss on Maisie’s cheek. “Goodnight Maisie. It was lovely to meet you.”

Stiles waves goodbye to his dad and Melissa, as they get back into their car. Maisie yawns beside them and Stiles chuckles and Derek rubs her back. They have had a long ass day.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Derek says yawning.

Derek stays with Maisie in hers and Laura’s room, waiting for Laura to get back from the bar before he stumbles back into his and Stiles’ room and falls into bed.

“Not so bad huh?” Stiles asks groggily, cuddling into Derek. “We all survived in one piece.”

“It went perfect,” Derek whispers kissing Stiles on the forehead before dozing off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	22. Chapter 22

Stiles decides his next book is not going to be about Maisie, or rather Macey and the wolf. Instead he decides to start writing a book about a little boy and an alien that crash lands on to earth without his parents. Even worse, than little alien tries to go to school but doesn’t fit in, but then the little boy befriends him. Okay, so maybe Stiles has a _type_ of book he likes to write – overcoming things, but still. His editor likes the idea so he’s going with it.

What’s even better this time around is he’s writing the book in Beacon Hills which means Maisie wants to hear _all_ about the book and get every little detail before it’s actually published. Stiles couldn’t even say no to her if he wanted to. They often talk about the book after dinner and Stiles tells Maisie his ideas and she consults on them, says whether she likes them or not.

Then, one night Maisie comes running down the stairs with a stack of papers with pictures of the little boy and the alien. She’s drawn out the whole story to her own little pictures.

“These are fantastic Maisie!” Stiles says in awe flipping through the pictures.

“I just wanted to draw them,” Maisie replies sheepishly. “And wanted you to see them.”

“Well, I already have an illustrator for my story Mase but maybe we can slip one of these in and it’ll be our own little secret.”

“Really?” Maisie squeals.

“I’m the author, I get the say so,” Stiles grins.

Later that night when Maisie is in bed, Stiles and Derek are relaxing on the couch in the family room, doing nothing more than cuddling and pretending to watch TV. It’s a ‘school night’ now that summer is over and so Stiles doesn’t spend the nights during the week. It just makes it easier in the mornings when Derek’s trying to get Maisie ready for school, getting himself ready for work, cooking breakfast and packing lunches.

So, Stiles normally stays until late in the evening as they relax after Maisie goes to bed before he goes back to his apartment. It’s not ideal, but it’s what’s working for the both of them right now.

“I have an AA meeting tomorrow,” Stiles murmurs. He’s lying on the couch, his head on the arm rest and his feet over Derek’s lap. “So I probably won’t come over for dinner, just grab something to eat after the meeting.”

“I could go with you one day. If you ever wanted support,” Derek says hesitantly. “I understand if you prefer going along but I just thought that – I’d offer.”

“Really?” Stiles asks sitting up. He scoots closer to Derek, turning down the volume on the TV. “I didn’t know you’d be interested in that. It’s why I kinda kept the meetings to myself.”

“I was just offering,” Derek says trying to play it off.

“Hey no, no need to try and back out of it now,” Stiles pokes Derek in the rib, smiling when Derek almost jolts out of his seat. It didn’t take long for Stiles to figure out that Derek was _very_ ticklish – Stiles may or may not have taken advantage of that a few times. “I mean you don’t have to be an alcoholic to talk there – there are people that have been affected by it as well. Which I guess you are since I dragged you down with me.”

Derek sits up right, turning in his seat to look at Stiles. He takes Stiles’ hands in his giving it a quick squeeze. “Stiles, you didn’t take me down with you. I may have been mad at you back then but I’d never think that.”

Derek leans forward and presses his lips against Stiles, kissing him slowly, trying to show Stiles that he doesn’t blame Stiles for anything, think that he was dragged down.

“Maybe I can get Laura to watch Maisie one of these days and go to a meeting with you.”

“Okay,” Stiles says against Derek’s lips, kissing him again.

“Okay,” Derek says pecking Stiles’ lips one last time before he settles back into the couch bringing Stiles with him.

**

Derek does eventually get to go to one of Stiles’ AA meetings with him. Stiles gets up to talk about some of what he went through and even mentions Derek. Everyone turns to look at Derek and smile. When the sponsor asks if Derek wants to get up and speak, Derek shakes his head no – even though the sponsor said it’s sometimes good to get a point of view of those that were affected, to know what’s going on through their minds.

Maybe one day Derek will talk, maybe he won’t. But it’s nice to see Stiles making an effort, openly talking about everything he went through and not trying to hide it. It startles Derek to hear that sometimes Stiles feels like he wants a drink, brief moments where he remembers the taste of alcohol and how much he liked it.

“But then I remember everything that went wrong because of alcohol. My job, my friends and family for a short period of time. I even lost myself and that’s not something I ever want to experience again,” Stiles says from the little podium at the front of the room.

Most of the others in the room are nodding their heads like they understand – and they do. This is the one place where Stiles is surrounded by people like himself.

“I don’t need alcohol to have a good time,” Stiles admits. “I thought I did, but I don’t. I have a new job that I love and enjoy; I have my friends and family back. Hell I even started working out more, but that’s probably because my boyfriend owns a gym,” Stiles smirks and the whole crowd chuckles. Derek just rolls his eyes from where he’s sitting but he smiles. “Best of all though, I have two new people in my life and they bring me more happiness and fulfilment than any ounce of alcohol could and I wouldn’t give that up for the world.”

Stiles smiles one last time at the crowd as he makes his way back towards his seat. Some people clap their hands, and say good job Stiles. Stiles blushes a little as he takes his seat next to Derek, but Derek leans across pressing his lips to Stiles’ temple and rests his hand on Stiles’ knee.

It’s not like they’ve gotten to the ‘ _I love you’_ part of their relationship. But hearing Stiles and his confession, it’s as much of an ‘ _I love you’_ that it can get without actually saying the words. That’s living proof to Derek that Stiles really does mean to stay on track, that he wants to stick around for himself and Maisie.

“I’m not a child,” Stiles sniffs as he gets out of the car and heads towards the diner, Derek by his side. “You don’t need to reward me with pie just because we went to AA.”

“Fine,” Derek huffs grabbing at Stiles’ shoulder to make him turn around. “Let’s just go home then.”

Stiles’ eyes widen and he can see Derek smirking like he _knows._ Stiles is never going to turn down pie. “What no! I deserve pie,” Stiles says leading Derek back towards the diner.

They eat dinner at the diner and Stiles is currently wolfing down an Oreo cake. Derek doesn’t get any dessert only has a bite full of Stiles’ before saying it was too sweet. Stiles sticks his tongue out and moves the plate of cake closer to him so he can eat it all for himself. Stiles’ excuse is that he can eat all that he wants now that Derek drags him to the gym a few times a week – apparently Stiles needed to take advantage of the fact that he didn’t have to pay for the gym membership. Stiles just took advantage of the fact that he got to see Derek in his gym clothes – it was sexy, okay.

“So Jackson and Lydia are totally a couple,” Stiles scrunches his face up. “Worlds colliding, it’s just weird man.”

“Lydia does seem like the type that wouldn’t take any of Jackson’s shit, probably a good thing for him,” Derek hums.

“Not if they ever come down and visit us,” Stiles points out. “She’s a force to be reckoned with; I don’t think you’d want to leave her alone with Maisie. Maisie will come out head to toe in designer clothes, a face full of makeup and probably a certified genius.”

“I’ll take the certified genius, none of the makeup,” Derek says looking horrified at the thought of his daughter ever wearing makeup.

Stiles throws his head back laughing and leans across the table to pat Derek’s hand. “Sorry to break it to you dude, but Maisie _is_ going to grow up and eventually she’ll be a _teenager_ and like boys, and make up and go through her ‘I hate you dad’ phase.”

“Are you trying to give me an early heart attack?” Derek mutters.

Stiles hiccups another laugh, taking a sip of his coffee. He should have definitely snapped a picture of Derek’s face on his camera phone because Derek actually looks like he’s about to have an aneurism. At least they have a few more years to get through before Maisie is officially a teenager.

**

If Stiles thought Jackson and Lydia meant his worlds were colliding, then he doesn’t know what he’s use to describe what happened when Scott visited Stiles in Beacon Hills. Okay, he’d say he looked on in horror and slightly nauseated.

Because Stiles, Derek, Scott, Erica, Boyd and Isaac all decided to go out for dinner so that Scott could meet all of Derek’s friends. Scott wasn’t interested in all of Derek’s friends though; he was more interested in just _one_ of Derek’s friends – Isaac. Scott spent most the night making googly eyes at Isaac and Isaac just fucking mirrored Scott’s googly eyes.

Stiles gets that Scott is into both boys and girls ever since their freshmen year in university when Allison ended up watching Scott hook up with some dude (Stiles didn’t, really didn’t, need to know that story) but Scott and Isaac? Just no.

“I wasn’t making googly eyes at him,” Scott pouts later that night when it’s just the two of them at Stiles’ apartment.

“Did you give him your number?” Stiles asks seriously.

“No.”

When Stiles doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring at Scott, Scott eventually groans and throws his hands up, defeated. “He gave me his number.”

“Ah-ha!” Stiles shouts pointing his finger at Scott.

“What’s the big deal anyways?” Scott points out.

“I- well, just…” Stiles splutters off.

“I thought you’d be happy. Wasn’t it you who said it would hilarious if we married brothers, or a brother and a sister and then we’d be real brothers and brother-in-laws?”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs flopping down on his chair defeated. “Just if you two start something and then it ends badly you put everyone in an awkward situation.”

“And what if Lydia and Jackson break up whose side are you going to take?” Scott protests.

“Noted,” Stiles laughs.

“Just for the love of God don’t let it be a one night stand. Plus if you break Isaac’s heart I can’t guarantee your safety from Erica.”

“Please,” Scott snorts. “If we can deal with Lydia, we can deal with Erica.”

“Not if they ever met,” Stiles mutters.

For the two weeks that Scott is there, he goes on more than a few dates with Isaac. Stiles spends his time at Derek’s grumbling asking isn’t it awkward that Derek’s best friend is going out with his best friend? Derek seems to take Scott’s side, saying it’s not that bad. If anything it would be kind of cool if they did start dating. Besides, it’s not like Isaac is a bad guy, he’s actually kind of the perfect guy – once you get to know him, and realise he’s not always the mean nurse from the Lodge.

But then when Scott has to go back to LA, Isaac mopes around town looking like a kicked puppy. Stiles tries to reassure Isaac that if it’s any consolation, Allison says that Scott is just about the same back in LA. That seems to cheer Isaac up and he says that they still talk regularly and have Skype chats. Stiles tries not to think too much into that considering what he and Derek used to do on those Skype chats.

The next time Stiles is having a Skype chat with his dad (and that took him and Scott long enough to teach Melissa and his dad how to use) his dad berates him, jokingly.

“Melissa wants to know what’s in the water over there in Beacon Hills,” Stiles’ dad says into the computer. The computer screen isn’t even adjusted properly so Stiles only sees half of his dad. Yeah teaching adults to use computers – not an easy task.

“What are you even talking about dad?” Stiles asks. He’s taken a break from going over the final rough draft of his newest story, the one about the boy and the alien.

“Scott’s already talking about visiting Beacon Hills again soon,” Stiles’ father explains. “And not to see you. To see some fellow named Isaac.”

“Gee thanks, Scott doesn’t want to see me?”

“You know what I mean,” Stiles’ dad huffs. “Are Melissa and I going to have to retire in Beacon Hills?”

“There is a good old folks home, Derek and Laura take Maisie there to volunteer some days,” Stiles jokes grinning like an evil man.

“And here I thought my son was going to put me and Melissa up, build us a granny annex. We can take care of the grandkids.”

“Whoa grandkids as in plural? Don’t jump the gun there father.”

Stiles’ dad laughs and Stiles can see Melissa enter the room and enter the frame on the Skype chat. She’s clearly just gotten in from work, still in her nurse uniform. She beams into the camera waving to Stiles. Melissa smacks John in the back of the head when he explains Melissa being sad that Scott has a sudden interest in Beacon Hills.

“Besides,” Melissa grins cheekily. “If we retire to Beacon Hills John and I can split our time between yours and Derek’s and Scott’s and Isaac’s.”

Stiles groans shaking his head. “You two really were meant for each other.”

“At least if Isaac and Scott get serious you two boys can look out for each other,” Melissa smiles.

“Tell me about it.”

When Stiles gets off his Skype chat with his dad and Melissa he finishes going through the final rough draft of his book and all in all, it’s perfect. They didn’t get to incorporate a lot of Maisie’s drawings in the book but they did manage to get her to sign her initials on one of the pages, hidden within the drawings that no one else would see unless they knew to look for it. It would be Stiles, Derek and Maisie’s little secret. Maisie loved the idea, thought it was the coolest thing ever.

Because who wouldn’t love to have their initials secretly embedded in a book that thousands of other people are going to read and never know it’s there. It’s their own little secret and mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add a little bit of Isaac/Scott in there. I had initially wanted them to get together earlier, when Scott visited Stiles at the lodge but that part never made it into the story, I like it this way around too.   
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	23. Chapter 23

Stiles’ second published book is just as much of a success as his first. It gets good reviews and this time the reviews focus more on the plot of the story and not the fact that Stiles is out of rehab – there are of course _some_ articles that still talk about the whole alcoholism thing, but that’s to be expected.

It’s so much of a success that Stiles’ publisher asks him to do a mini book tour around some of the surrounding states at various book stores to do some readings and sign some books. Stiles was hesitant about it first, having to leave Beacon Hills and being around that many people again. Beacon Hills had become his sort of safe haven.

Going to these book signings would be filled with kids that used to watch ‘Stellar Stiles’ and still saw him as this superstar. Derek reassured him that it would be good, that these kids don’t care about Stiles’ past they still seem him as the coolest person ever. This makes sense, because Maisie never cared about Stiles’ alcoholism and when she did, it was only to reassure Stiles that she knew he could get better – and he did.

Maisie on the other hand, pouts that Stiles has to leave for a few weeks to go on said mini-book tour because it means that she’ll get to spend less time with Stiles. She pleads with Derek asking if they can both go with Stiles, but Derek points out that Maisie still has school and Derek still has work. Besides, they can still talk to Stiles on the phone and Skype. Not that it makes Maisie feel any better.

“Three weeks,” Derek mutters. Stiles can barely hear him over the rush of the shower. Derek’s hands are soaping Stiles’ body up as Stiles tries to shampoo his own hair. They’ve just had sex, quiet sex, because Maisie is down the hall sleeping and the last thing they need to do is wake her up and traumatise her. “Three weeks you’ll be gone.”

“You sound like Maisie,” Stiles teases turning around in the shower to face Derek. “It’ll go by in a flash.”

“No it won’t,” Derek says petulantly and Stiles laughs running his fingers over Derek’s eyebrows to smooth them out.

“Okay yeah the three weeks with no sex will suck. But it’s not like I’m going to go radio silent. And if you _really_ want to – because I know you two will just miss me so much – you can always drive down one weekend to one of the readings that’s close by.”

“There’s an idea,” Derek murmurs.

“I’m full of those. Another idea,” Stiles smirks running his soapy hands lower down Derek’s body. “Is to get our fill of sex before I leave.”

“Another good idea,” Derek whispers.

**

The first night in the hotel in some city in Arizona sucks. Stiles already misses Derek and Maisie and he flips through the hundreds of channels on the TV and can’t find anything he actually wants to watch. He wanders around the room looking, trying to entertain himself to no avail.

He doesn’t know why, but he stops at the mini fridge in the room and just stares at it. He wonders what’s in there, what mini bottles of alcohol there are, what snacks there are to eat. He doesn’t want to drink, doesn’t even feel the need to, but his hands still move towards the mini fridge and he opens it anyway.

The fridge is empty.

Where there should be rows of mini bottles, it’s completely empty, the light shining bright on absolutely nothing. Obviously, Stiles’ publisher is not going to risk the chance of Stiles getting a hold of those bottles and drinking them – not after so many months of sobriety. Stiles is thankful of that, he really is. He wouldn’t have had any of the bottles anyway, even if they were in the fridge. But it’s nice to have the temptation removed nonetheless.

Dr Deaton had assured Stiles that he could call the Lodge anytime during normal working hours if he ever needed someone to talk to while he was on the road. Deaton had even given Stiles his private cell phone number that Stiles could use in the evening if Stiles ever felt like he was going to fall off the wagon.

It’s little things like that, that make Stiles feel confident and sure of himself. He’s surrounded by people who look out for him, make sure he’s comfortable and happy without being overbearing. They don’t _hover_ over Stiles, their eyes darting around like Stiles is going to flip a switch any second and start drinking again.

Stiles spends his days at various book stores, reading his two stories as kids ooh and awe as he retells the story. They all line up waiting for Stiles to sign their book, get a picture, and even ask him about Stellar Stiles. Eventually it becomes easier to tell the children that he’ll never be on Stellar Stiles again and although the kids look sad, they get excited when they hear that Stiles still plans on writing more stories.

He spends the rest of his day time walking around the various towns that he’s in, buying post cards and magnets to take back for Maisie because she’d be fascinated about getting to go _anywhere_. She could make an adventure out of anything. Then, Stiles spends his night, after Maisie and Derek have had dinner talking to them on Skype in his hotel room. Maisie goes on and on about school, her friends and Derek barely gets a word in edgewise.

When Maisie goes to sleep, Derek will call Stiles back so they can finally talk. Sometimes, Stiles will try and coax Derek into phone sex or Skype sex but Derek will just roll his eyes and tell Stiles to hurry up and get home.

**

Stiles is supposed to get home on a Friday night, but he manages to get back to Beacon Hills on a Wednesday. The first thing he does is head straight to Derek’s house, not even bothering to go home and drop his bags off or take a shower.

“I brought pizza,” Stiles calls out, opening Derek’s front door and stepping inside.

“Stiles! You’re home!” Maisie yells running to the front door. “I missed you.”

“Aw I missed you too Mase,” Stiles beams.

Maisie takes Stiles’ hand and drags him into the kitchen, where Derek and Laura are.

“I brought pizza,” Stiles smiles dropping the box on to the counter. He pecks Derek on the lips and waves at Laura. Derek’s standing by the stove, mixing a salad in the salad bowl, and raw chicken on the counter about to cook on the pan.

“I was about to start dinner,” Derek points out.

“Forget about it,” Stiles beams. “We’re having pizza.”

“Aw daddy can’t we have pizza!” Maisie cries. “It smells soooo good.”

“Fine,” Derek mutters dumping the rest of the lettuce into the salad bowl and chucking it in the fridge, he tosses the chicken back into the fridge as well.

The four of them dig in to the pizza and Stiles tells Maisie all about the places he went and the things that he saw. He even gives Maisie the postcards and the magnets that he bought from each city and Maisie rearranges them on the front of the fridge to her liking. Derek doesn’t say much throughout dinner despite both Laura and Stiles trying to start a conversation.

For dessert Derek cuts up fruit for Maisie even though she pouts and says she wants ice cream – but Derek doesn’t budge. After that, he shoos Maisie upstairs to finish her homework and Laura makes herself scarce.

“Something wrong?” Stiles asks putting the dishes into the dishwasher.

“I was making grilled chicken and salad for dinner,” Derek says. Okay?

“So, we can have that tomorrow,” Stiles shrugs.

“We only have takeout on Friday nights.”

Derek breaks down the pizza box and dumps it into the recycling, banging on cupboards as he puts away the dry dishes. Definitely not in a good mood.

“It’s no big deal,” Stiles points out.

“But it is,” Derek yells shutting a cupboard a little too loudly. “It is a big deal Stiles,” Derek says lowering his voice.

“Okay, this is so not the reunion I was envisioning,” Stiles frowns.

Derek huffs shaking his head. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms as he faces Stiles. Stiles mirrors his image, leaning against the opposite counter staring back at Derek.

“We have a schedule Stiles, a plan. Friday nights are takeout nights and yes sometimes we make exceptions but this wasn’t one of them. It’s a school night.”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“I don’t always want to be the bad guy,” Derek sighs. “You can’t always be the one bringing pizza and sweets and being the cool one while I always have to be the one to say no. I can’t be the only one to discipline Maisie.”

“What?” Stiles asks pushing off of the counter. “I didn’t know you wanted me to discipline Maisie. I didn’t want to overstep or anything.” Stiles closes the distance between himself and Derek. He places his hands on Derek’s forearms running his hands up and down. “I didn’t know.”

“You’re just as much of a part of Maisie’s life now. We’re in this together,” Derek says melting into Stiles’ touch. “You can’t always be the cool dad while I’m the mean one.”

“Huh,” Stiles says smiling. “Dad?”

“That doesn’t scare you does it?”

“Scare me?” Stiles laughs. “It’s a little late for me to be getting scared about this Derek. I just never wanted to overstep when it came to Maisie.”

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s waist and leans his head against Derek’s shoulder, hugging him tight – forgetting about putting the dishes in the dishwasher or cleaning up the rest of the kitchen. “No more takeout during the week,” Stiles nods against Derek’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Derek says into Stiles’ hair, wrapping his own arms around Stiles, dragging his hands down to cup at Stiles’ ass.

“Now that’s the kind of reunion I was envisioning,” Stiles laughs.

Derek huffs pushing Stiles off of him lightly and tells him to get back to cleaning the kitchen.

Stiles tries not to smile the whole time. He never thought Derek wanted him to be part of Maisie’s life in that way. Sure, they were getting more serious but Stiles always left Derek to do the disciplining and all that when it came to Maisie. He never thought in a million years Derek wanted Stiles to be a part of that too.

Derek finally admitting to Stiles that he wanted Stiles to be further involved in Maisie’s life was _the_ final step cementing their relationship. Derek had never, ever, entrusted anyone to take care of Maisie besides his sister Laura. Sure, Boyd, Erica and Isaac took care of Maisie from time to time but they never had to discipline Maisie like a parent. Now Stiles gets that opportunity.

It would also change Maisie and Stiles’ relationship. Stiles would no longer just be the fun one, letting Maisie stay up late, eat junk food and watch tons of TV – now he’d have to make sure Maisie does her homework, goes to bed on time, takes her shower etc. Maisie probably won’t be impressed, but she’ll get used to it if it means Stiles stays in their life.

**

By now, it was no secret that Stiles – Stellar Stiles – Stilinski lived in Beacon Hills. It wasn’t like he was swarmed by adoring fans – he was only a children’s celebrity after all – but he became well known within Beacon Hills. Kids still looked at him in awe; some moms (and dads) looked at him like he was a piece of juicy meat. Best of all though, was that no one really ever brought up the whole alcoholic thing.

He once ran into Bear that he met at the bar his first few days in Beacon Hills. His name apparently, wasn’t actually Bear but Sam. He had two kids that were thrilled to meet Stiles and Bear – Sam – said that had he known Stiles was an alcoholic he never would have served him. Stiles said maybe it was a good thing it happened; it was what finally woke him up. Having to be hooked up to a bunch of tubes to get fluid back in to his body and not to mention Derek barging in on him.

But the _very_ best thing was Stiles going to Maisie’s school for a show-and-tell/book reading. While Maisie was becoming more confident and making friends, being able to say she _personally_ knew Stellar Stiles undoubtedly made her the coolest person in her class. Kids no longer made fun of her snickered when she corrected the teacher or knew the answers. Now the kids wanted to be her friend, be nice to her.

Of course those kids liked her only for selfish reasons – hello getting to meet Stiles is _awesome_ – but Maisie has a good head on her shoulders and between Derek, Stiles and Laura, they weren’t going to let these kids take advantage of Maisie.

Stiles got to read his story to the class, answer questions and talk about his new books. He was an instant hit and the kids were begging their teacher to let Stiles come back and read some more books. Maybe, even one day, _way_ in the future when Maisie is a teenager and in high school he can talk about being an alcoholic and drugs and all that in the drug prevention presentation. But that was way into the future.

Some of the parents weren’t all too thrilled that Stiles was going to read stories to their children. As if they thought that alcoholism could be passed through breathing the same air – some kids didn’t get to show up. Whether that was because Stiles was a recovering alcoholic or just like a dad to Maisie – despite the fact that Maisie already had a dad – Stiles never knew and didn’t care. As long as Maisie wasn’t being bullied because of Stiles’ past or Derek’s taste in a partner, then Stiles or Derek could handle it.

Derek in the future may become the _hot_ dad but right now Stiles is the coolest person.

“Would you stop with the pouting already?” Stiles jokes that night. He’s in Derek’s bedroom, clad only in his boxers on Derek’s bed, waiting for Derek to get out of the shower.

“I’m not pouting,” Derek retorts childishly.

He’s totally pouting.  

“Are you really that jealous that the children at the school just _loved_ me?” Stiles smirks.

Derek’s retaliation is to drop his towel – like he’s putting on some stripper show (which Stiles would not be against, like at all) – to reveal all the glorious nakedness that is Derek. Still damp from his shower, water droplets on his chest and rolling down his hard abs.

“What were we talking about?” Stiles asks licking his lips.

Derek, as much as Stiles, is not above using sex as a distraction. And the last thing Derek wants to hear right now is how _awesome_ everyone in Maisie’s class thinks Stiles is.

“You’re so predictable,” Derek snorts.

“Right back at ya,” Stiles snaps but there’s no menace behind his words.

Derek sits down on the edge of the bed, near the headboard, leaning backwards so one of his arms is resting on the other side of Stiles’ outstretched legs. He leans back, at an awkward angle to kiss Stiles. Derek’s lips are still a little wet and warm from the shower and it’s just so _inviting_. Stiles hums his agreement, leaning off of the headboard to get closer to Derek.

“Want me to fuck you?” Derek asks. Stiles doesn’t even bother with a worded answer, just grunts an affirmative.

Stiles shimmies out of his boxers while Derek gets up off of the bed so that they can make themselves comfortable.

“Or you could ride me. You should definitely do that,” Derek muses getting back onto the bed and getting himself comfortable on his back, fluffing some pillows and putting them under his head.

Stiles stares in disbelief, flushed from arousal and then glares, an accusing glare.

“Oh sure, make Stiles do all the work then,” Stiles huffs.

Derek just laughs, an aborted laugh – because Stiles is still making his way down Derek’s body and settling in between Derek’s spread legs.

Stiles takes Derek’s flaccid cock in hand, holding it and staring like it’s the prettiest thing Stiles has ever seen – which, it kind of is. Well, as pretty as cocks can get anyway.

Derek’s about to open his mouth, make some comment but Stiles starts to slowly jerk him off, trying to get Derek hard – which makes him shut his mouth. Stiles just smiles, like he knows what he’s done, before he ducks his head down lower, taking Derek’s balls into his mouth, sucking and licking at them while his hand still works over Derek’s cock.

He can hear Derek letting out little breaths and moans and Stiles can feel Derek hardening in his hand, and is that ever the most perfect thing. It’s one thing to already see Derek hard and worked up, it’s another for Stiles to be able to take the time to get Derek hard, use his mouth, his hands and his words and watch as Derek’s cock goes from soft to hard. Definitely one of Stiles’ favourite past times.

Stiles finally moves his head back up from Derek’s balls, poking his tongue out to lap at the pre come spurting from Derek’s cock, then lowers his head down as far as he can go in one smooth move. Derek hadn’t been expecting it, his hips bucking up minutely before he realises and tries to steady himself.

Stiles just moans around his mouthful of cock. He continues to suck Derek off, getting Derek’s dick as nice and wet as he can for now, without any lube – because lube, no matter whether it’s flavoured or not, is still not a pleasant taste. Getting Derek off turns Stiles just as much as if Derek were getting Stiles off. His free hand roams down to between his legs taking his hardening cock in hand and jerks himself off while still trying to blow Derek.

He gives up after a few minutes, instead letting his cock get friction from the bed sheets, rutting restlessly.

When Stiles pulls his mouth off of Derek, moving his body farther up the bed so that he can straddle Derek’s hips, Derek hands him the bottle of lube from the bedside dresser. Stiles pumps a few squirts directly on the underside of Derek’s cock laying against his belly, then quickly starts to slick Derek’s cock up, making sure to get it all the way around and all the way up and down the shaft.

Derek’s eyes closed, mouth open as he feels the tight heat of Stiles’ hand on his cock, the easy slick up and down from the lube.

“You really are making me do all the work huh?” Stiles says breaking the silence. He uses the left over lube on his fingers to reach around and work himself open. It doesn’t take much these days – with the amount of sex they have anyway.

Derek just smiles, shrugs his shoulders as best as he can lying down. “Had a long day.”

“That makes two of us,” Stiles snorts but he doesn’t protest any more. He likes seeing Derek tired and lazy but still wanting sex. Derek becomes so much more pliant this way and Stiles can use Derek’s body how he wants to get himself off, and then right at the end, when Derek’s about to come it’s as if he’s snapped back to reality, jolted awake.

When Stiles is fully opened he lifts his hips up higher, grabbing Derek’s cock to line up with his hole, gently lowering himself down. He moans, finally feeling Derek open him up, stretching him wide and filling him up. Derek’s hands land on Stiles’ thigh, his fingers running through the course hair, blunt nails digging in a little when Stiles is fully seated.

Stiles folds himself in half, leaning in closer to Derek so their faces are inches apart as Stiles starts to rock gently. It’s not really fucking, Stiles can’t get much movement, but he can feel Derek inside of him and that’s all that matters. Stiles’ breathe ghosts over Derek’s face, over his closed fluttering eyelids. Stiles presses kisses to Derek’s forehead, to his eyes, his nose, anywhere that he can get his mouth.

Derek makes pleased little noises, his fingers running up and down Stiles’ back, making them both shiver.

When Stiles pulls himself up, his hands resting on the top of the headboard, he really starts to fuck himself on Derek’s cock. Lifting himself up before coming back down, their moans combined in their room. Stiles feels like his entire is buzzing, his body entirely focused on Derek.

His legs start to quiver, straining from working himself up and down Derek’s cock that Derek finally plants his feet firmly on the bed, his hands a tight grip around Stiles’ waist as he fucks up as Stiles is lifting himself up.

“Ooh,” Stiles says his hands almost slipping off the headboard. “Do that again.”

Derek continues to fuck up into Stiles, as Stiles hangs his head in between his arms still gripping the headboard. He takes one hand off the headboard, wrapping it around his hard, leaking cock and starts to stroke himself as well as he can, with Derek fucking into him.

“I want to come all over your stomach,” Stiles says in between Derek’s thrusts.

“Do it,” Derek grits as he pulls Stiles’ hips down on his cock.

Stiles’ hands movements go aborted as he works himself over as fast as he can, about to come any minute. Derek stops fucking Stiles, when he feels the first drops of come hit his stomach, he just stops to _stare_ at Stiles’ cock. Watches as Stiles keeps stroking himself, trying to get ever last drop out of him.

Stiles opens his eyes, looking down at the mess that he’s made and smiles. He moves his hand off of his cock and starts to smear the come all over Derek’s stomach – and that’s what spurs Derek on. He lifts Stiles’ hips off of his cock and back down on to it a few more times, before one final thrust his hips rising to meet Stiles come back down.

Derek shuts his eyes closed, his hand spasms on Stiles’ hips as he empties himself into Stiles.

After they’ve cleaned themselves up and are lying in bed, each dressed in their boxers, cuddling. It’s another school night which means Stiles isn’t going to be spending the night, instead going back to his apartment – but he’s just nice and warm and comfortable, laying half on top of Derek. He doesn’t want to think about having to get dressed, getting into his car, driving – too much hassle.

It’s as if Derek reads his mind through, because his hands his tracing idle patters on Stiles’ back when he says. “You should move in.”

Stiles stills on top of Derek, stops breathing for a few seconds. “You think?”

“Of course.”

Stiles nods his head but doesn’t say anything else – they’ve just had sex and maybe Derek is talking with a sex-hazed mind and didn’t really mean it. Maybe in the morning Derek will think it’s a terrible idea, especially because they have Maisie to think about.

The next evening though, when Stiles comes over for dinner, while they’re clearing the dishes and Maisie is off doing her homework Derek brings it up again. He says that they should move in, talk to Maisie about it and everything.

Stiles can’t stop smiling like a fucking loon after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be an epilogue/in the future thing.   
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


	24. Chapter 24

**A little more than a year later:**

Stiles has been sober for over a year – he has his one year chip and everything. Technically, it’s been longer than a year, but Stiles doesn’t count the time he spent at the Lodge. It was easy (okay, _easier_ ) to stay sober when you’re at a rehab facility rather than being out in the real world. So Stiles started his count of how many days he’s been sober the day he left the Lodge.

It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as big of a struggle as Stiles thought it would be. He owes a lot of that to Derek and Maisie and their amazing support system.

“This is so weird man,” Stiles shakes his head. They’re all sitting around _their_ – Stiles and Derek’s – family room.

Stiles moved in more than half a year ago. Laura had finally moved out of the house, moving in with her boyfriend. On one hand, Maisie was sad to see Laura go – Laura had been around since the day Maisie was born and a constant figure in her life. On the other hand, Maisie was ecstatic that Stiles was moving in. Laura and her boyfriend, Marco, still visited a few times a week, had Maisie over for sleepover so it was like nothing changed except for where everyone slept.

“What?” Erica and Laura ask in unison.

Everyone, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Scott, Lydia, Jackson, Laura and Marco are all sitting around on the chairs and the floor, the fireplace blazing, having a mini Christmas party a few days before Christmas. There’s even some eggnog (the alcoholic kind) around and Stiles has somewhat become accustomed to it – the smell or _want_ doesn’t get to him too much. He and Derek stick to their cups of hot chocolate.

“You two!” Stiles squeaks pointing to Laura and then to Erica. “You’re talking at the same time and you’re both pregnant and due like a month apart.”

“So?” they say at the same time and everyone in the family room laughs.

“We’re going to be flooded with kids. Between you two,” Stiles says referring to Erica and Laura. “And Isaac and Scott talking about adopting!”

Yeah Isaac and Scott are getting pretty damn serious. In that that they’ve moved in together, Scott moving to Beacon Hills, and are practically married – without going through an actual ceremony. Now they’re talking about kids and should they buy a house closer to the school and to a park. Stiles and Derek aren’t even that bad.

“Does that mean you’re going to have a kid soon?” Jackson asks with a smirk.

“Whoa,” Stiles says holding his hand up. “Maisie is enough as it is and she hasn’t even hit her teenage years yet.”

Derek grunts from where he’s sitting on the couch, nudging Stiles in his side with his foot. Stiles is sitting on the ground, his back half leaning against the couch and Derek’s leg. Derek is _still_ horrified at the thought of his daughter ever becoming a teenager.

“So?” Lydia says taking a sip from her eggnog. “The sooner you have kids, the less of an age gap.”

“Are you two having kids soon?” Stiles asks pointedly looking at Jackson and Lydia.

Both Lydia and Jackson shrug looking guilty. “We’ve been thinking about it.”

“Oh my God!” Stiles throws his hands up. “Did you guys all plan this, to have kids around the same time?”

“Not right now,” Lydia rolls her eyes. “We still have lots we want to do.”

Ever since Jackson and Lydia met at Jackson’s restaurant opening – they hit it off. Lydia didn’t judge Jackson for his past and Jackson, well he was one of the few men that could actually put up and keep up with Lydia Martin. He never complained when she spent long hours at her office, never complained when she’d have to go to some fancy party that she was promoting or in charge off. They completed each other in ways that no one else could.

In all honesty, Stiles and Derek _have_ talked about having more kids, maybe adopting or something – but they’re both content with raising Maisie right now and maybe they’re selfish in wanting to give Maisie their devoted attention. But their little family works and maybe, one day in the future, if they decide to have more kids, they do, if they don’t, they don’t. The world won’t end.

“I can’t believe you two are leaving for the Bahama’s,” Stiles says looking at Lydia and Jackson. Because only Lydia and Jackson would spent Christmas in tropical weather.

“Why not,” Lydia shrugs. “We don’t have to worry about cooking a Christmas dinner or cleaning up.”

“Room service, hot weather and lots of sex,” Jackson smirks.

“There are children in the house!” Stiles cries pointing a finger at Jackson.

Jackson rolls his eyes and gives Stiles the finger – because although Maisie is in the house, she’ not in the room so he technically, totally doesn’t have to put money in the swear jar.

“Where is Mase anyway?” Laura asks rubbing her pregnant belly.

“Upstairs,” Derek says taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “She’s making cards for everyone.”

That’s totally Maisie because everyone smiles and nods their heads.

“You’re going to the Bahama’s, Allison is in France with her new boyfriend, why do you all live the life of luxury,” Stiles sighs.

Derek nudges him again, a little harder this time and Stiles nearly drops his hot chocolate on the carpet. Stiles squeaks, grabbing hold of Derek’s ankle so that Derek can’t kick him any further.

“I was just _saying_ ,” Stiles grumbles patting Derek’s knee. “I like our little life in Beacon Hills.”

“You better,” Derek mutters and everyone laughs, because hello everyone knows Stiles _loves_ it in Beacon Hills.

“That’s what happens when you have kids,” Erica shrugs.

“Which will soon be your life,” Scott points out.

Maisie is already beyond excited that both Laura and Erica are having babies. Laura and Marco are having a baby boy and Erica and Boyd decided that they want to wait until the baby is born to find out the sex of the baby. Everyone grumbled because they all want to start buying baby stuff and they can’t buy anything for Erica and Boyd just yet – even though the baby isn’t due for months.

“Yeah well you and Isaac are going to be on baby duty when Boyd and I want our date nights,” Erica points out, raising her eyebrow.

“Hey our baby needs a babysitter too,” Laura pouts.

They spend the rest of the night eating munchies, drinking eggnog (and hot chocolate) and handing out the little presents they got each other. Maisie eventually comes running down the stairs, handing out her hand drawn cards to everyone.

**

Christmas morning is a flutter of chaos – but the best kind of chaos. Maisie wakes up at the crack of dawn running throughout the house telling everyone to wake up. Isaac and Scott, Laura and Marco and Stiles’ dad and Melissa, who drove down for the holidays, all slept over so they could spend the day together.

She bangs on everyone’s doors until they agree to wake up and when they finally make their way downstairs Maisie is already sitting at the front of the tree, poking at the presents, too excited. Derek points out that they need to have something to eat first and that’s final. Maisie would pout, but she knows it’s tradition to have the most amazing cinnamon rolls with icing sugar and sprinkles, so she doesn’t put up much of a fight.

When it’s time to finally open presents, Stiles’ dad and Melissa give Maisie their present first. She tears open the wrapping paper to see a book, all about HMS Belfast.

“This is a Navy ship in England!” Maisie beams starting to flip through the pages. She jumps up to hug Stiles’ dad and then Melissa. “I love it. Best grandparents ever.”

Stiles’ dad and Melissa preen, cooing over Maisie because she _is_ the most adorable little girl ever. Derek and Stiles are smiling from ear-to-ear, sitting beside each other cuddling on the couch.

Derek gets up from the chair, heading towards the tree and grabs a little envelope hiding in-between the branches of the tree. He hands it to Maisie and tells her it’s from him and Stiles. She looks at the envelope curiously, and then tears into it. It’s a stack of photos printed out on a piece of paper and she flips through all of them.

There first picture is of a cup of tea – and she looks at it confused.

The second picture is of HMS Belfast.

The third picture is of Buckingham Palace.

The fourth picture is of Tower Bridge.

The fifth picture is of Windsor Castle.

When she gets to the last piece of paper, she blanches, blinking at the words, frozen in place. Then she screams – at the top of her lungs and everyone cringes. It’s probably a good thing they live in the middle of a forest with no neighbours anywhere near them.

“WE’RE GOING TO ENGLAND?!” she screams looking from her dad to Stiles. Her eyes looks like they’re about to bulge out of her head.

“We’re going to England,” Derek beams and Maisie runs at full speed and flings herself into Derek’s arms.

“I can’t believe it!” she gasps as she crawls from Derek’s lap to Stiles’ and hugs him just as tightly around the neck. “We’re going on a _real_ adventure.”

“Now you really have to read up about HMF Belfast,” Stiles’ dad notes and Maisie nods her head vigorously.

“I will, I promise!”

Stiles and Derek have already planned their trip; despite they’re going in the summer. They thought telling Maisie at Christmas would be the best present ever and something for her to look forward to. Not to mention give her enough time to pick out all the things she wants to do, because they know it’s going to be _a lot_.

Laura and Marco give Maisie her present from them, which is a brand new little suitcase that Maisie can take with her on the trip and some new toys, books and puzzles.

Isaac and Scott give Maisie an underground tube map of London for Maisie so she can study the tube (because it’s totally something she would do) along with other little books of things to do and see in London. She gets even more books and puzzles.

Needless to say, Maisie is one spoiled little girl and Derek honestly wouldn’t change a thing about it.

They spend the rest of the morning passing presents and stockings around and it’s so busy and loud and a stark contrast to what Derek’s house used to be like before. Well, that’s not technically true. When he was younger, his house used to be just like this, only louder with more people. But then when his parents died and it was just him and Laura – it got quiet again.

When Maisie came into the picture, the house became louder.

But now, the house is full of people, and laughter, and talking and it’s everything Derek’s ever wanted.

The turkey is cooking in the oven, and everyone is helping in the kitchen, cutting vegetables, making a pie, making the gravy. Well Laura, doesn’t have to help, she gets to sit with her feet up and watch the show since she’s pregnant. Laura is so not above milking the pregnant card and Derek was not above pointing it out. It was all in jest though, because Derek was elated that his sister was pregnant, that he was going to be an uncle, and that Maisie was going to have a little baby cousin to play with.

Maisie comes running into the kitchen, her London book in hand as she starts to declare everything she wants to do when they go to England. She wants to have high tea, go to Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, Tower Bridge, and Tower of London.

“Harry Potter!” Stiles and Maisie shout at the same time.

Derek groans from where he’s basting the turkey. They’ve had Harry Potter marathons more times than Derek wants to count and as much as he likes the movies, he’s not as obsessed as Stiles and Maisie.

“Suck it up Derek,” Stiles beams coming up behind Derek and wrapping his arms around Derek’s stomach. “We’re so going to the Making of Harry Potter Tour.”

“I didn’t think I even had a choice,” Derek drawls.

Since getting together with Stiles and since moving in together, Derek has come to learn that he hardly gets his way anymore. Stiles and Maisie totally gang up on him, picking the movies they want to watch on movie night, picking what they want to have on takeout night. Derek will grumble about it, but it’s all pretend because he _loves_ it.

Stiles’ dad takes pity on Derek, patting him on the back as he puts the vegetables in the oven.

“I don’t know how you put up with this one,” Stiles’ dad says nodding towards Stiles.

Stiles splutters, narrowing his eyes at his dad as everyone else in the room giggles.

“Derek _loves_ me, he couldn’t live without me, dad. Just like you’re how shall I put it politely – _whipped_ – when it comes to Melissa.”

“Amen to that,” Melissa says lifting her glass of wine.

Laura laughs nodding her head and high-fiving Melissa.

Derek snorts but pulls Stiles close to his side, rubbing his face in Stiles’ hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Derek admits.

Stiles turns his head to look at Derek and blushes. Now it’s John’s turn to snort, shaking his head when he sees his son blushing, walking back to the kitchen island to sit with Melissa.

“I don’t know what I’d do without the two of you,” Stiles whispers as they both turn to look at where Maisie is sitting at the kitchen table flipping through her book.

When they all sit down at the dinner table, Derek had left the head of the table for Stiles’ father, assuming he would be the one to cut the turkey. John shook his head saying no, shooing Derek to the head of the table.

“This is your family kid,” John says handing the knives over to Derek.

Derek ducks his head, blushes a little as he cuts into the turkey. He serves up the turkey on to everyone’s plate, all digging in to the vegetables, stuffing and other meats. Maisie sits in between Scott and Isaac – because she just _loves_ her uncles. Stiles sits at the other end of the table so that he’s facing Derek while everyone else sits around the table.

If you asked Derek, over a year ago, he never would have imagined this would be his life. He’d never have thought he’d found someone he loved, but more than that, someone that Maisie loved and to have that person return that love so whole-heartedly. More than that, Isaac finding someone he loves, Laura finding someone she loves and having a _baby_ and having Stiles’ dad and Melissa in the picture as well. It was a growing, unconventional family.

When Derek looks up and sees Stiles, Stiles is talking animatedly, his fork flying around in the air as he retells some story and everyone laughing around the table. Derek counts himself as the luckiest person in the world.

Stiles meets Derek’s eye midway through his story and returns the smile, winks at Derek and then continues on with the story.

Yeah Derek is the luckiest guy, but if you asked Stiles, Stiles would say he was the luckiest man in the world. He not only landed the most amazing man, but he also met the most amazing little girl.

He can hardly remember the days when he used to drink until he passed out, go out clubbing every night and wake up with the worst hangover ever. And he doesn’t miss it, at all. The only times he ever thought about his past, served as a reminder that he never wanted to end up there and maybe if all that shit happened, he never would have met Derek and Maisie. It’s an odd path to take, to find a relationship and happiness, but the best things in life are unplanned.

Maybe it’s not exactly how Stiles ever envisioned his future, waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get Maisie ready for school. Derek and Stiles arguing with the principal why there isn’t a lacrosse team. Having quiet, quickie sex in between Maisie’s afterschool activities before she gets home, or after she’s gone to bed. They don’t get to take spontaneous trips or fly across the world whenever they want to, just because they want to.

But now that he has it, this life, he can’t picture a world without Derek, Maisie and life in Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek, I can't believe I've actually finished it! Also, had to make it Christmas themed since we're so close to Christmas!  
> Thank you everyone for reading and commenting - makes my day! :)  
> [tumblr](http://foughtthewolvesofpatience.tumblr.com/)


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